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EGENDS OF FIRE 

ISLAND BEACH and 

THE SOUTH SIDE 




EDWARD RICHARD SHAW 



^ 






NEW YORK 

LOVELL, CORYELL & COMPANY 

310-318 Sixth Avenue 






Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

United States Book Company 



TO MY FRIEND 
WILLIAM S. PELLETREAU 

OF SOUTHAMPTON, L. L 



PREFACE. 



These stories embody only a small part 
of the folk-lore and tradition that pertained 
to the Great South Bay. They were told 
by a class of men now gone. Fact, imag- 
ination, and superstition — each contributed 
its part. In the tavern, among groups 
of men collected on shore from wind- 
bound vessels, at gatherings around the 
cabin fire, and in those small craft that 
were constantly going from one part of 
the bay to another, not only these tales, 
but others, irrevocably lost, were elaborated 
and made current in days homely and toil- 
some yet invested with an atmosphere of 
romance. 

Many of the illustrations in this volume 
are reproductions from photographs taken 
by Mr. R. Eickemeyer, Jr., medallist of the 
Royal Photographic Society, on his visits 
to Long Island. The artistic excellence 
of Mr. Eickemeyer's pictures is widely 
known, and the author, in appreciation of 
his interest and kindness, desires to make 
here grateful acknowledgment. 

Bellport, Long Island, 
June 25, 1895. 



CONTENTS 





PAGE 


The Pot of Gold . 


II 


The Bogy of the Beach . 


• 41 


The Mower's Phantom . 


59 


Enchanted Treasure 


• ■ 96 


The Money Ship . 


115 


Widow ^SIolly .... 


. 142 


The Mineral-Rod . 


188 


Notes 


. 208 



' Ofi old I.iytig Is/ancfs sea-girt s/iort\ 
Man\ iifi houf Ive whih'd awayT 



THE POT OF GOLD 




Fire Island Beach is a barrier of sand, 
stretching for twenty miles along the south 
coast of Long Island, and separating the 
Great South Bay from the Atlantic ocean. 

To reach it, you must make a sail of 
from three to seven miles, and once upon 
it, you find it a wild, desolate, solitary spot, 
wind-searched and surf-pounded. 



r 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 

Its inner shore is covered with a growth 
of tide-wet sedge, with here and there a 
spot where dry meadow comes down to 
make a landing-place. 

The outline of this inner shore is most 
irregular, curving and bending in and out 
and back upon itself, making coves and 
points and creeks and channels, and often 
pushing out in flats with not water enough 
on them at low tide to wet your ankles. 

A third of the distance across the Beach, 
the meadow ends and sand begins. This 
slopes gradually up for another third of 
the distance, to the foot of the sand hills, 
which seem tumbled into their places by 
some mighty power, sometimes three tiers 
of them deep, sometimes two, and some- 
times only one. 

These sand hills are the most striking 
features of the Beach. The biggest of 
them are not more than sixty feet high, 
yet so hard a feat is it to climb to the top, 
and so extended is the view below you — 
on one side the wide Bay, on the other, the 



The Pot of Gold. 13 

ocean stretching its restless surface to the 
horizon — that you feel yourself upon an 
elevation tenfold as high. 

Through these hills the wind makes a 
great galloping, whirling out deep bowl- 
shape hollows among them, and piling the 
shifting sand upon their summits. Now 
and then you will notice a hill with its 
shoulder knocked off by the wind, and a 
ton of sand gone no one can tell where. 
In every storm their contour changes, and 
yet their general formation is so similar at 
all times that the change is seldom thought 
of- A coarse spear-like grass finds a sparse 
growth upon them, and does what it can to 
hold the sand in place; but it has a hard 
time of it, as its blades buried to their tips 
or its naked roots often testify. 

But there is one part of this Beach that 
is ever much the same. It is a broad, 
shelving strip of sand between the hills and 
the sea, where the tide rises and falls, 
pounding and grinding, year in and year 



14 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

out — the play-ground and the battle 
ground of the surf. 

On a summer's day, I have seen this 
surf so low and quiet that one could launch 
a sharpie upon it, single-handed, and come 
ashore again without shipping a quart of 
water. At other times it is a terror to look at 
— a steady break of waves upon the outer 
bar, with row after row coming in, rearing 
and plunging as they strike the shore. In 
such a sea there is no launching yawl or 
surf-boat, and no coming ashore. 

When the tide is on the right moon and 
the wind has blown a gale from the south- 
east, the strand is entirely submerged, and 
people upon the main shore three miles 
away can see the surf breaking over the 
Beach hills. 

Such a riot of sea and wind strews the 
whole extent of beach with whatever has 
been lost or thrown overboard, or torn out 
of sunken ships. Many a man has made 
a good week's work in a single day by what 



The Pot of Gold. 15 

he has found while walking along the 
Beach when the surf was down. 

" The Captain " knew all this and had 
patrolled that Beach scores of times. 

Ten years had passed since the first 
time which laid the habit of wandering 
along the surf-shore apparently in search 
of whatever the sea had cast up. Some- 
times a spar, sometimes sheets of copper 
torn from a wreck and carried by a high 
surf far along the strand, sometimes a ves- 
sel's gilded name, at other times only scat- 
tered drift-wood were the rewards of these 
lonely walks. 

People about the neighborhood where 
the Captain lived, knew that at one time or 
another he brought these relics from the 
Beach; yet no one supposed that the find- 
ing of them was related to his life in any 
other way than mere happen so. Anyone 
who went upon the Bay at all was likely to 
land at the Beach. Once there, it was a 
natural impulse to go across and walk along 
the ocean side; for, at that time, early in 



1 6 Legends of Fire Isla?id Beach. 

the thirties, it was widely beheved that the 
sea had wealth, and often threw it up upon 
the shore. Never, however, was it in the 
least surmised by the Captain's neighbors 
that these solitary excursions had woven 
themselves in as a part of the texture of 
his life. 

Had, though, these good neighbors been 
quick to perceive they would have noticed 
one characteristic of the Captain, suffi- 
ciently manifest at times — that he was 
always in the best of spirits when a storm 
was raging. At such times he had been 
heard to remark, " This is a wild day, my 
friend, but just such days is needed." 

And it was not till years afterward that 
neighbor Rob'son actually understood the 
import of a strange remark made to him 
by the Captain one stormy night, when the 
wind blew fiercely from the south-east, and 
drove aslant the thin rain which the low 
scudding black clouds let down. 

Mr. Rob'son had been belated and was 
hurrymgtoget home. The Captain, meet- 



The Pot of Gold. 17 

ing him, called out in the most cheerful of 
tones, " Hello, is that you, neighbor Rob'- 
son?" and giving him time for merely a 
bare "Yes," he continued, "This is a mon- 
strous night. Do you hear the ocean 
pound over on the Beach? There'll be tons 
of sand shifted to-night — tons of it; more'n 
all the men out on a gen'ral trainin' day 
could shovel in a year. You're in a hurry, 
I see, neighbor. I ain't. I'm in no haste to 
get in-doors. A great night like this fits 
me. Somehow it puts new spirit into 
me." 

Was it the storm that made the Captain's 
heart so buoyant and his mind so cheerful? 
or was it because such days and nights 
made more certain the realization of that 
secret hope which had possessed him foi 
years ? 

So secret was this hope that even his 
wife surmised nothing of it; for, happily, 
she was not one of those unfortunate 
women who are endowed with satanic in- 
tuition, and whose lives thereby are made 



1 8 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

miserable until they have followed up and 
chased into clear daylight all the dusky 
suspicions that flit, perchance, into their 
minds. 

But although a matter-of-fact wife, she 
had, it must be confessed, noticed more 
closely than her neighbors the effect a 
storm had upon her husband; and she had 
learned to put off until such a time those 
various little requests about the house, 
which appear in a man's eyes so great a 
matter to get about, and which he usually 
puts off and shirks with an unaccountable 
dread. Every little change, therefore, she 
needed, of driving a nail here, putting a 
shelf there, or the mending perhaps of a 
churn-dasher, he cheerfully made at those 
times; and she would often remark to him, 
" It's astonishin' how much you'll get done 
on a stormy day, and the harder the storm 
the more you'll manage to get' through 
with." 

If, however, these odds and ends were 
not finished during the storm, they were 



The Pot of Gold. 19 

suffered to go over, as the Captain was 
certain to leave home early the next morn- 
ing; and to any neighbor who chanced to 
inquire for him, the reply was made that 
he had gone upon the Bay. 

" Gone upon the Bay." That expression 
was in those days a most convenient one 
for a bay-man. The persistent following of 
the Bay for a livelihood at the present 
time causes each man to hold closely to 
one kind of work. But then, there was no 
telling when a man set out from home how 
his day would be spent — he might go oys- 
tering or gunning, he might cast his nets 
or waste his time sailing in search of what 
he deemed better luck. Varying condi- 
tions of wind and weather and tide offered, 
one day, one thing, and the next day, 
something else; and what use a bay- man 
would make of his day grew out of these 
conditions and his own ambition. 

The Captain, however, on the morning 
after a storm, paid no attention to what 
these conditions offered till he had visited 



20 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 



the Beach and sought again the reahzation 
of his hope. He never failed to be on 
there early on such mornings, to see what 
the wind and the sea had done. 

And so it turned out upon this very 
day. There had been a sudden and violent 
storm the previous night, and the Captain 
had crossed the Bay and was making one 
of his solitary patrols of the Beach. 




w*^^ 



The Pot of Gold. 21 

Across his shoulder was thrown his gun, 
as this he always carried with him. And 
although he took no silver w^ith him, as 
certain gunners were known to do, to sub- 
stitute for lead should there occur any 
emergency bearing the suggestion of witch- 
ery about it, yet he felt, in some way which 
he did not care to examine, more comforta- 
ble with his gun in his hand. He knew 
well all those stories of witchcraft and 
mystery about the Beach which superstition 
and imagination had set afloat in various 
localities along the "South Side." How 
the witches would come at night and rattle 
the latch upon old Uncle Payne's gunning 
house, and how the owner fastened the 
latch with a shilling piece, crept in the 
window^ and invariably loaded his gun with 
a silver sixpence to blaze away at these 
midnight revellers, should he hear the 
slightest indications of their freaks. And 
how gunners, taking the surest aim at the 
wild duck that flew to their decoys, had 
oftentimes been bafifled in hitting them, 



2 2 I.ege?ids of Fire Island Beach. 

finding, in such instances, the shot roll out 
of the barrel as the gun was lowered. And 
how many a gunner carried a lucky-bone 
in his pocket as an amulet against such 
sinister misfortune. 

He had heard, too, of that sheltered spot 
on the north-west side of Watch Hill, in- 
closed by a clump of old bayberry bushes 
and low cedars, where searchers for money 
had occasionally gone with a mineral rod; 
and who, whenever they began to probe 
for treasure, were always frightened away 
by a huge black snake that wriggled itself 
up the stem of a bush, and stretched out at 
full length along the top of the foliage, 
darting its tongue and hissing as if guard- 
ian of the enchanted spot. And more 
marvelous still, the tradition of a stone, 
circular and flat, bearing upon its surface 
■the image of a man's face, that had at 
times been run upon, near the Point of 
Woods, but which never could be found 
when deliberate search was made for it. 

While the Captain thought he put no 



The Pot of Gold. 23 

real credence in these stories, yet he felt 
more or less apprehensive when upon the 
Beach. A sense of mystic awe, which he 
could not explain always possessed him 
there, and notwithstanding his disbelief in 
witchcraft, he would sooner have aban- 
doned his quests than forego the compan- 
ionship of his gun. 

All the morning long, that idea which 
had come to him with strange force ten 
years ago, and which had engendered the 
secretly cherished hope, was uppermost in 
his mind. So strongly did it dominate his 
thoughts when he was alone by the ocean 
that it had forced itself into words. Over 
and over again he stated it as he talked to 
himself, adding this time one tradition, the 
next time another. No one was near to 
hear it. The very utterance cheered him 
and fed his hope. 

Becoming somewhat tired in his patrol, 
for he had already walked fully seven 
miles, he ascended one of the sand dunes 
to reconnoitre the Bay, and assure himself 



24 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

whether any boat was making towards this 
part of the Beach. He saw only two or 
three sails abreast of Patchogue, and these 
were bound westward. Feeling, therefore, 
that he could take the time, he threw him- 
self down to rest. 




The day was clear and bright, with a 
light breeze astir. The wide Bay was blue 
in the sunlight. Near the hither shore he 
saw a long file of wild ducks sweep a grace- 
ful curve and flutter down upon their feed- 
ing ground. On the farther shore stretched 
the stately woodland, its whole extent 
broken only by the meadows about the 
creeks, and the few patches of green that 



The Pot of Gold. 25 

revealed the scattered farms. This was all 
the prospect. No church spire stretched 
itself upward as a landmark, no village 
showed white along the shore, no fleet boats 
with pleasure-seekers sped here and there. 

His weariness soon passed, and as he 
descended to resume his walk, the sand, 
flowing down the steep hillside as fast as 
he trod, set his thoughts back again upon 
the old theme. " The sand on this Beach 
is all the time a changin'. What are hol- 
lows now 'ill be hills in a few years. Sea 
and rain and wind are all the time at work. 
The wind, though, puts in the most time. 
How soon it 'ill sweep out a hole and carry 
the sand up the side of a hill anybody 
knows w^ho has been on this Beach in a 
blow. It handles sand in about the same 
way it drifts snow. 

*' No, I'll never dig for treasure, and I've 
no belief in mineral rods. Too many fools 
have used 'em. Watch Hill has all been 
dug around ag'in and ag'in, and never any- 
one found a shillin' for all their potterin'. 



26 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 

If there's anythin' valu'ble buried on this 
Beach, sometime or other it *ill be laid 
bare — that Money Ship wa'n't off and on 
here so many times fur nothin' — there's 
got to be treasure here, and who's more 
hkely to find it than me ? No man watches 
this Beach closer, and nobody knows I'm 
watchin' it, either. It'll come, too, one of 
these days! If a man's determined enough 
and only holds on long enough, what he's 
desirin' and hopin' for is sure to come 
round, else he wouldn't feel so sure about 
it all the time all through him. It'll come, 
it's sure to come, and then I'll build my 
vessel." 

This had been the Captain's theory. He 
had held on. Never in the least had he 
slackened hope. 

During the storm the tide had run high, 
surging up and washing away the foot 
of the sand hills. As far as his eye 
could reach, he saw the precipitous side of 
hill after hill. This very condition led him 
on a mile or more farther than he generally 



The Pot of Gold. 27 

walked. And then, as no footprints but 
his own were to be seen anywhere on the 
crisp sand, he determined to go on still 
farther. He had walked perhaps half a 
mile, having lapsed into that state of rev- 
erie apt to come upon one who has urged 
himself beyond the accustomed limit of 
toil, when suddenly, through the drowsiness 
of his mind, a perception, unheeded at the 
time by the other senses, flitted back, 
awakening and concentrating all the fac- 
ulties upon itself. In a moment he 
turned about, saying, " I believe I'll go 
back and see what that actually was that 
looked like a piece o' black glass midway 
up the bank." Reaching the spot, he 
stepped up the slope and began to dig 
away the sand. He saw at once that it was 
a small glass or earthenware pot of a black- 
ish color, which settled quickly as he dug. 

"Ah," exclaimed he, "the day's here! 
The day's got here at last! " 

Clasping it in his hands, he weighed it, 
so to speak, lifting it up and down till his 



28 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

surprised senses needed nothing more to 
convince them. He examined it, but found 
no mark upon it, not even upon the resin 
with which it was sealed. Suddenly a 
strange alarm rose up within him, and he 
feared someone would come upon him. He 
obeyed his first thought and looked quickly 
eastward and then westward along the surf 
shore, but saw no living form. Someone, 
though, might be crossing the Beach and 
might at any moment appear on the crest 
of the hill just above him. Before the 
thought which suggested this had really 
passed, he began digging a place in 
the sand, and in it he set the heavy pot. 
The hole, however, was not deep enough, 
and he lifted the pot out. But thinking it 
would take too long to dig the hole deeper, 
he put the pot back again, took off his 
coat, threw it over the spot, and laid his gun 
atop of these. With steps as agile as any 
youth of twenty, he climbed up the slip- 
ping sand to the crest of the hill and 
looked keenly over the Bay. He found 



The Pot of Gold. 29 

himself as secure from interruption as 
when an hour or more ago he lay down to 
rest and enjoy the scene. In a second he 
had returned to the hole and was lifting 
out the pot, determined to open it at once. 

Doubts, however, thrust themselves upon 
him. "Why had he taken so much for 
granted ? What was really the need of all 
his alarm ? After all the jar might only be 
filled with bullets or shot." ' 

But another thought crowded closely 
along with these doubtful ones. " No, it 
couldn't be. He hadn't at last espied this 
jar — the only thing that met his hope for 
the countless times that he had walked 
along this shore — to find in it only lead. 
It had treasure in it of some kind. He was 
sure of it. His feelings told him so." 

Opening his jack-knife he began to cut 
away the resin from the mouth of the jar, 
making slow progress with the hard cover- 
ing. At length he reached the stopper, 
and tried to pry out the thick cork, but 
with such haste that his knife-blade broke, 



30 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

and he was forced to cut down on one side 
of the stopper. Deeming he had been a 
long time opening the jar, his old alarm 
returned, again suggesting that someone 
might be approaching. A second time he 
scanned the shore in both directions, cov- 
ered the jar with his coat, ran up the steep 
and looked over the Beach and over the 
Bay. No sign of approach or molestation 
was anywhere discernible. Condemning 




the alarm that had so wrought upon him 
in stronger terms than is necessary to use 
here, he returned to the spot, and this 



TJie Pot of Gold. 31 

time, instead of kneeling, sat down and 
took the jar in his lap. Not a great while 
elapsed before he had cut away enough of 
the cork to thrust in the blunt edge of his 
knife. A pry, a deeper thrust, another pry, 
and out came the thick stopper. But now 
he was startled, fearing that he had opened 
some magical jar, and was, at last, to be en- 
tangled in that witchery he so strongly dis- 
credited ; for, strange to relate, upon look- 
ing in, he saw something that resembled 
either lint or cotton, and which no sooner 
had the air touched, than it slowly lost its 
substance and vanished. His affright went, 
however, as quickly as the mysterious ex- 
halation, for there lay the coins of gold, as 
bright as on the day when Tom Knight, the 
buccaneer, afraid the town magistrate would 
search the Beach and find them evidence 
against him, had sealed the coins up in the 
jar, and hid it among the hills. 

He tipped the jar aside to disturb the 
coins, observing as they slid over, other 
traces of the lint or cotton, which had evi- 



32 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 

dently been used to pack the coins in lay- 
ers, either as security to the jar, or to 
muffle any clink that would excite sus^ 
picion in removal. But his purpose in tip^ 
ping the jar was not to witness the exhala 
tion of the fluffy substance — he had an. 
other object in view. So, canting the jar 
first towards him and then from him to se^ 
cure as varied a change of the contents as 
possible, he peered to the very bottom. 
Nothing there but gold, the yellowest of 
gold. 

Reaching in with two fingers, he brought 
out a coin between them, and began to ex- 
amine it. The date, 1783, was all that was 
familiar to him. Looking at the other side, 
he recognized the image of a crown, and 
under it, upon a shield, figures of lions, 
standing on their hind legs, with long tails 
curved like the letter S. Was it English 
money? The letters, HISPAN-ET-IND, 
around the edge, were unintelligible to him. 
He turned the coin back to the date side. 
Here was the profile of some rotund person- 



The Pot of Gold. -7,2^ 

age, and over his head, CAROLUS III. 
DEI-GRATIA. It was the third of some 
monarch, that was evident enough; but the 
DEI-GRATIA was just as puzzhng as the 
letters on the other side. Reaching in for 
another coin, he read the date, 1799. Above 
was a sHghtly different profile, the same 
name, but after it was IIII. instead of III. 
He drew coin after coin from the jar until he 
had several in his hand. Except the dates 
they were in the main alike. He conjectured 
that they were doubloons — Spanish doub- 
loons; and his conjecture was right. Sat- 
isfied with the examination he had made, 
he piled the doubloons in a column in one 
hand, and with the other, lifted the pile and 
let them drop, one by one, to hear the solid 
chink. This, however, did not reach up 
to the height of his feelings. So he spread 
out his coat, and made, with a few blows 
of his hand upon the yielding sand under- 
neath, a concave surface. Then lifting the 
pot, he poured out the coins in a glitter- 
ing stream. Their fall was musical, and 



34 Legends of Fii-e Island Beach: 

when the last one fell, he scooped up 
double handfuls, held them high, and let 
the dazzling stream run again. 

It was the first golden dream realized 
since the days when Captain Kidd was 
said to have buried his ill-gotten treasure 
in countless spots upon that Beach. How 
would that gold have dazzled the sight of 
all those argonauts who had made so many- 
continuous but fruitless searches for the 
money reputed to be hid among those sand 
hills! What exultation would the sound of 
those falling yellow disks from the old 
mint of Mexico have wrought in those 
who had dredged persistently but in vain 
upon the bar where the long-boats of the 
Money-ship upset, or those who by moon- 
light and by starlight had walked to and 
fro over the hills, grasping the mineral rod, 
and digging where its delusive twitch in- 
dicated, until weary with toil and dis- 
appointment. 

While the Captain's whole attention was 
completely absorbed in this revel with his 



The Pot of Gold. 35 

gold, a coasting vessel had been approach- 
ing. It is true that the schooner was a 
mile or perhaps farther from the shore, 
"but with their spy-glass," thought the 
Captain, as he discovered the vessel, 
" those on board can plainly see just what 
I've got here." Hurriedly dipping up 
handful after handful, he slid the coins 
carefully into the jar, and after the stopper 
was replaced, wrapped his coat about it, 
reached his gun, and disappeared over the 
hills. 

When he came to his boat, he tied the 
coat securely about the jar with odd 
strands of rope, and placed the prize care- 
fully under forward. AVhen night fell, it 
was his intention to make towards home. 

The south-west breeze had gathered with 
the day, and blew freshly even from the 
Beach shore. Out in the Bay, where it 
had wide, unhindered scope, it had added 
to itself, pushing the waves before it, and 
urging them with such impetuosity that 
their crests grew flurried and broke into 



^6 Legejids of Fire Islajid Beach. 

white, foamy caps Every leaf on the 
" South Shore " was astir^ fluttering and 
tugging in the moist wmd ; and the trees 
bended and straightened to trim all their 
spread of canvas to the sweeps of the 
breeze. 

" Ruther rougher than I care for to- 
night," thought the Captain, "but the 
wind'll fall after the sun sinks ; I'll give it 
time." 

The color had gone from the few strips 
of cloud that lay about the sundown spot, 
and the gray twilight arch stretched across 
the west, as the Captain cleared away for 
home. Along the eastern sky, well up, a 
glow of dull orange spread itself, and 
creeping up to the glow and gradually 
transmuting it, was a cold blue, the blue of 
advancing night — a color so rare that it is 
matched nowhere else than on polished 
steel when the blacksmith tempers it. 

The Captain steered with a strong and 
steady hand, and watched his sail with a 
vigilant eye. But give heed as closely as 



The Pot of Gold. 



37 



he might to his craft, there played with his 
fancy the glowing rays of distant Fire 
island Light. It had just been built. 
Again and again its gleams, falling on the 
dark side of some tumbling wave, caused 




the Captain to turn his head and look over 
his shoulder to the source whence they came. 
The light was, in truth, no guide to him 
on this night, but thoughts of the time 
when it would be, kept recurring. He 
called to mind going in and out of Fire 
Island Inlet years ago, before a light-house 



38 Legends of Fit'e Island Beach. 

was ever proposed, and of how difficult a 
place the Inlet was to enter after nightfall. 
But now, no matter how thick the night, 
bring that light to bear north-east, and one 
was inside and out of harm's way. :What 
an advantage it was! He thought, too, of 
how he should see it far ahead, when 
making a run homeward from Coney 
Island; of the times he should have to lie 
anchored within the inlet waiting for fit 
weather to go out, and how companionable 
that light would be sending out its bright 
rays on wild, stormy nights. 

All that the Captain fancied came true 
in the years that immediately followed. 
Speedily the timbers of a vessel were got 
out and set up, and duly " The Turk " was 
launched. What odd notion dictated the 
name was never known. It was thought, 
though, by many of his neighbors that some 
name suggestive of that which made the 
long-wished-for vessel a reality, should have 
been given her. Indeed, there was no little 
comment about it at the time, and much 



The Pot of Gold. 



39 



protest whenever the vessel was discussed. 
It was overlooked, however, in this in- 
stance as it had been in several others, that 
the Captain held views and ideas quite 
opposite to tnose of most people who 
knev; him; for what one of these neighbors, 
had he conceived the idea of finding buried 
treasure, would have done as the Captain 
did, and waited for the wind and the sea to 
dig it for him ? 







-V 



f-" ■ -^- 'n ; 



THE BOGY OF THE BEACH 



Strange things happen on that Beach 
and have happened. My experience was 
no new one, but it takes hold of a man, 
nevertheless, and he can't shake it off for 
months. Ever since white men frequented 
that Beach, some one at intervals has 
undergone the same foreboding experience. 

In the early part of the last century a 
whaling crew, half Indians, had their hut 
east of Quanch. They used to land and 
come off at the point there, where the 
water is deep, called Whale House Point 
till this day. From the days of the earli- 
est settlement, whaling crews used to go 
on the Beach. They would live there dur- 
ing the season and watch the sea day by 
day, ready to launch their boats and push 
off whenever they saw a whale blow. 
Their supplies were brought from the 



THE BOGY OF THE BEACH 



Strange things happen on that Beach 
and have happened. My experience was 
no new one, but it takes hold of a man, 
nevertheless, and he can't shake it off for 
months. Ever since white men frequented 
that Beach^ some one at intervals has 
undergone the same foreboding experience. 

In the early part of the last century a 
whaling crew, half Indians, had their hut 
east of Quanch. They used to land and 
come off at the point there, where the 
water is deep, called AVhale House Point 
till this day. From the days of the earli- 
est settlement, whaling crews used to go 
on the Beach. They would live there dur- 
ing the season and watch the sea day by 
day, ready to launch their boats and push 
off whenever they saw a whale blow. 
Their supplies were brought from the 



42 Legends of Fire Islajid Beach. 

north side of the Island, and fires were 
built on Long Point as a signal for the 
crew to come off . The Long Point of those 
days is now Ireland's Point, which pushes 
out into the bay a mile, about, west of the 
mouth of Carman's river. 

When a fire flashed up at night, part of 
the crew would row across the bay, heading 
directly for the fire. After they had put 
the supplies in their boat and were ready 
to return, they would throw sand on the 
fire and put it out. Soon after it disap- 
peared a fire would blaze up on the Beach 
to guide them back. In that way Fire 
Place got its old name. That was a name 
that had something behind it and never 
ought to have been changed. 

This crew had been expecting for three 
days the signal fire. They were getting 
short of supplies. People didn't get 
around lively in those times, you know. 
The trouble was that they hadn't much to 
get around lively with. 

For two nights until nearly midnight — 



The Bogy of the Beach. 43 

all this I heard from my great-grandfather 
— the crew had set a watch on the top of 
Quanch Hill to look out for the signal fire 
upon Long Point. Now the curious thing 
about this is that a man named Jonas was 
the watch both nights. The first night was 
his regular watch, but the second night he 
volunteered to take the place of another 
member of the crew. The men in the hut 
spoke about this during the evening. 
None of them, however, knew that Jonas's 
idea was to satisfy himself as to whether the 
strange experience he had had the night 
before would repeat itself. That Beach, 
you know, is one of the most lonely places in 
the world. There are times when it's 
awful on there. Take it on a dark night 
with the wind wild and the sea mad. 

That night Jonas made up his mind to 
walk eastward a mile and a half. Fre- 
quently he would go down in the hollows 
and stop to listen. He heard the sound 
of the wind in the grass, and the beat of 
the surf — each of these distinctly. And yet 



44 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

something more. His heart began to 
thump and his own breathing interfered 
with his judgment. He tried hard to lis- 
ten. Could he be deceived? he asked him- 
self. Suddenly he turned and walked to the 
top of a hill where no grass grew. He got 
his breath and then held it. He heard even 
the delicate beat of the particles of sand 
blown by the wind, and he was sure that be- 
sides he recognized what he had heard in the 
hollow. He could not be mistaken. Farther 
away now, moving among the hills — almost 
gone, then quite gone. The thought oc- 
curred to him then that he had forgotten 
he was on the lookout. Immediately he 
scanned the horizon to the northeast of 
him but discerned no spot of flickering 
red. He looked up at the stars to see 
how far they had moved westward. Some 
drifting clouds obscured two or three stars 
he knew best, so he waited till the clouds 
had shifted, and then he knew it was near 
midnight. There was no use to watch 
longer, for those who brought supplies 



The Bogy of the Beach. 45 

never made a fire after midnight. He 
turned to make his way toward the hut. 
He had not taken three steps, when he 
stopped and stood stock-still again. He 
heard distinctly the rumble and beat of 
the surf, the sifting of the sand, the sound 
of the wind in the dried beach grass, yet 
plainly apart from these something else. 
It moved on the wind rapidly away and 
away, and was gone. But as he stood 
thinking of it, it came again, stronger than 
before. This time not eastward of him, 
but clearly westward. His head grew hot. 
It moved farther and farther to the west, 
rising and falling, then with sudden in- 
creasing force stopped abruptly. He made 
his way to the hut and crept into his bunk. 
It was two hours before he got to sleep. 

The next morning a whale was sighted 
close in shore. The crew launched their 
whale-boat and put off for him. They cal- 
culated where he would next rise and 
rowed to the spot. He came up length- 
wise of the boat, just far enough ahead to 



4-6 Legends of Fire Island BeacJi. 

smash it with his flukes. It was a right 
whale, and they strike sideways, you know, 
with their tail. 

" Stern all," was the order quickly ut- 
tered. A short distance back, they whirled 
the boat around, and then pulled at the 
order. Whale-boats, I suppose you know, 
are sharp at both ends. 

Before they were in position, however, 
to row straight on to the whale and keep 
clear of his flukes, he started. Quebax, 
the harpooneer, fastened his oar, grasped 
the harpoon, rose up in the bow and threw 
it. It was a long throw, fifteen feet, but 
it was the only chance. The harpoon 
entered the side of the whale and must 
have held securely. But the whale turned 
suddenly and struck the boat with his head. 
The crew sprang overboard just in time, for 
the next moment the whale stove the boat 
into flinders. The wind, so it happened, 
favored them, as it was blowing directly on 
shore. All the crew reached the Beach ex- 
cept Quebax. He was missing, nor was his 



The Bogy of the Beach. 47 

body ever found. The bow of the boat, 
to which the Hne was fastened never came 
ashore, so it was thought that Quebax got 
entangled in the hne. It was toward the 
end of the season — this whale would have 
made their sixth — and the disaster broke 
up their whaling for that year. 

No man of that crew felt the great sense 
of relief at leaving the Beach that Jonas did, 
and never after would he go on there to 
remain overnight. He said nothing at the 
time about his weird experience among 
those Beach hills the night before Quebax 
was lost, but in later years he told it all. 

And then, again, I have heard it said 
that for several nights before that awful 
catastrophe at Old Inlet, at the time of 
the War of 181 2, the same strange calling 
and shouting was heard among the hills. 

Old Uncle Payne, whose gunning house 
stood east of Molasses Island Point near 
Quanch, declared that twice in his life he 
heard at midnight the moaning in the hills, 



48 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

and each time thereafter had found bodies 
washed ashore. 

But at Fiddleton, at Watch Hill, and 
through all the hollows there, down around 
Pickety Rough, even on Flat Beach, the 
eerie holloing, the shouting and calling, 
unlike any human voice, that was heard 
on different nights, suddenly changing, 
too, from one spot of the beach to another, 
foreboded the drowning of those fifteen 
buccaneers from the Money Ship and the 
burying in the sea for all time of their 
blood spent treasure. Yet having heard 
all this, though years before, I joined the 
first life-saving crew of Station No. — . 
The season then was a short one. Regu- 
lar patrols of the Beach with exchange of 
checks for tally was then a thing undreamt 
of. Only in thick, foggy, or stormy weather 
did we walk the Beach. I can't see any 
use of patrolling that Beach in good 
weather and wearing the crew out. To 
my thinking all that is necessary on bright 
days or on clear starlight and moonlight 



The Bogy of the Beach. 49 

nights is to keep a man on the lookout 
with a good glass beside him, and so save 
the crew; for there come times when the 
rescuing of life depends upon the reserve 
strength of the men. Yes, there come 
emergencies on that coast when power of 
endurance is the important, the decisive 
thing. The way to meet such unexpected 
demands and emergencies is to give the 
crew a chance to store up reserve force, 
power to hold on, to make a great effort for 
a night and a day, perhaps. This is what 
counts when a vessel is ashore far more 
than any regular patrolling, with the men 
on the go bright weather as well as bad 
weather. 

We had pretty good weather that year 
till after the holidays had passed. Then 
there came a spell of thick weather. I 
remember distinctly how it set in. The 
day had been a very bright one, with a 
tinge of warmth in it. But at nightfall 
an ominous murky drift of cloud gathered 
in the southwest, a lee set for a northeaster* 



50 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

The order was given for patrol that 
night, and the eastern beat fell to me. 
When the tide began to rise the wind 
hauled northeast by east and blew lightly 
down the coast. It didn't seem to portend 
snow, but the weather began to thicken. 
I faced the wind and walked briskly, but 
it bit my face and searched under my 
clothing as only a northeast wind will do. 
When within a quarter of a mile of the end 
of my beat, I struck a match and held it 
between my two hands as a sort of a 
shield, and let it burn. If you have never 
tried this, you have no idea how far such a 
light may be seen in the darkness or how 
large a spot of light it appears to make. 
Lanterns are of no account on that Beach. 
No lantern will burn when a high wind is 
blowing sand before it. They choke up 
and go out. And as about the only time 
when they would be of use is when they 
won't burn, they're not carried. Then, 
after all, it's no place for them. They'll 
do round the barnyard, but the coast is 



The Bogy of the Beach. 5 1 

no place for a light, down almost on the 
surf's edge, bobbing and moving along in 
the darkness. 

I lit another match and still another, 
but got no answer, so I concluded that the 
patrol up from the next station was re- 
turning. I reached the end of my beat, 
and waited some time under the lee of a 
hill, and near midnight began my patrol 
back. Passing a deep opening between the 
hills, my attention was attracted by a low 
moaning. At first I gave little heed to 
it. Then later I walked up to the top of 
one of the hills that flank the strand all 
along and listened. I faced the wind ; then 
I stood back to it. I turned my ear in every 
direction, even bent my head down to render 
my hearing more acute. I could not distin- 
guish any strange sound. No sooner, how- 
ever, had I descended to the strand and 
resumed my walk than the moaning began 
again, seeming as before to be just over 
behind the hills. It was continuous but 
uneven, like the wind. It moved down the 



5 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

Beach as I walked, just abreast of me appar- 
ently, but over behind the hills, considerably- 
farther, however, toward the bayside when 
I passed any low spot of beach. When 
within half a mile of the station, it was 
gone. I noticed instantly when it ceased. 

An experience of this kind disturbs a 
man's soul, and the more he fights it the 
greater trouble it becomes and the more 
uneasiness it gives him. But I said noth- 
ing about it at the station. 

The thick weather continued. A seeth- 
ing, boiling surf was running, showing 
that there had been a big storm off shore. 
Such a surf always indicates that. We 
couldn't see much beyond the outer bar 
for several days. 

In the next patrol at night I felt sure I 
should hear the moaning again, and I did. 
It followed abreast of me on my patrol 
out, and was gone as I approached the 
meeting-place at the end of my beat. But 
on my return it came again and followed 
in the same way as before. I didn't stop 



The Bogy of the Beach. 53 

once to bother with it, but kept walking 
steadily back. It left me when about the 
same distance from the house as on the 
first night. 

The next night my patrol began at mid- 
night on the short beat to the west. I 
heard nothing out of the usual course of 
nature till I got within three-quarters of a 
mile of the half-way hut. Then I heard 
not only the moaning, but other noises not 
human, and a clapping or beating as with 
two flat sticks. All this was confined to 
one spot, and I could locate that spot ex- 
actly: in a rather deep hollow, with three 
hills butting up around. The wind from 
some cause always drew down into that 
hollow and kept its whole surface smooth, 
not a spear or root of grass there, and as 
round as the inside of a cup. 

As I heard the voice, its hideous changes, 
which at times seemed to run into a part 
of some strange and weird tune, and the 
clapping along with it, I knew that all this 
foreboded some dreadful thing. 



54 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

Hot flushes came over me and I sweat 
at every pore. But I kept on walking 
just as steadily as I could. I didn't want 
to quicken my pace a bit, and I had to hold 
myself down in order not to do it. I left 
the noises and clapping farther and farther 
behind, till at last I could not hear them. 
They didn't move, however, but remained 
right in that hollow. At length I came to 
the place where the half-way hut was, and 
turned up from the strand to go to it. 

This hut stood well up in a sort of nar- 
row pass that opened in a northwesterly 
direction through the surf hills. You 
could see the hut, coming from the east, 
but not from the west. It was built of old 
timbers and covered with seaweed and 
sand. 

I entered, glad to get in there, and be- 
gan to blow up a fire from the embers left 
by the patrolman from the west. I loaded 
my pipe and lit it, and the fire gave me 
some cheer. I stayed there an hour, I 
should think, dreading awfully to go. But 



56 Legends of Fhe Island Beach. 

the thing had to be done, so I buttoned up 
my coat and started. As I came down to 
the strand suddenly I caught sight of some- 
thing coming toward me dripping wet. 
The strength went out of my legs as quick 
as lightning, and my knees gave way. I 
nerved myself up at once, and there was 
need of it, too, for a voice — a human 
voice — called to me for help. It was a 
sailor who had just crawled up out of the 
surf. Instinctively I looked off shore and 
saw a vessel on the outer bar. She was not 
there an hour back, when I passed by. 

The sailor sank down exhausted after 
he called to me. I helped him into the 
hut and blew up the fire. 

" Are there any others ? " I asked. 

'■'■ No," he replied, *' I am the only one." 

I laid on more fuel, left him, and walked 
along shore, looking into the surf with the 
keenest eye I had. I set off lights, but no 
answer. Then I went back to the hut, and 
the sailor had recovered sufficiently to give 
me a full account of how the vessel came on. 



The Bogy of the Beach. 5 7 

'•'■ We had thick weather for several 
days," he said, " and had lost our reckoning. 
We struck heavily on the bar off here, 
sounded, and made up our minds that we 
were on Nantucket Shoals, and that the only 
thing for us to do was to land. We hauled 
the boat up on the leeward side, the men 
got in, and I stood on the rail to cast off. 
Just as J had thrown down the painter, a 
big sea, coming round the stern of the 
vessel, struck the boat and turned her 
bottom side up. It happened in less than 
no time, for I had let go and had to jump. 
I struck on the bottom of the yawl and 
slid off into the sea. When I came up and 
put out my arms to swim, I struck an oar 
in front of me. This saved me. With it 
I worked toward the shore, but there I 
had a fearful struggle. Eleven times the 
waves threw me up on shore, but the 
undertow was so strong it carried me back 
each time. My strength was about all 
gone. The twelfth time a large wave 
carried me farther up. I felt the moving 



58 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

sand under my feet, and, with the last rem- 
nant of strength, I dug both hands and 
feet into the sand with all my will, and 
just kept myself from being carried back 
again. I crawled up on the shore and 
rested. When I got up to look around, I 
saw a crack of light from the fire in this 
hut, and I staggered toward it." 

I summoned the rest of the crew, and 
we had tough work the rest of that night 
and for some days afterward. 

But I was always apprehensive after this 
experience and it weighed on my mind. 
So in the spring I left the Beach, conclud- 
ing that what I had heard and seen was 
enough for one lifetime. 




THE MOWERS' PHANTOM 



In the eighties of the last century, on 
the sparsely settled old country road 
north of Yaphank, two mowers were 
arranging, one August evening, to go to the 
Beach next day, and cut the sedge upon a 
neighbor's meadow. "We must make an 
'arly start," said Raner. " By sunrise we 
ought 'o be well through the Gore in the 
Hills. Arter wants that piece o' sedge all 
laid to-morrer, ef we be men enough to do 
it." 

"How be you goin' 'cross?" asked 
Layn. 

" In the ol' hay-boat. I got her ready at 
Squasux week ago yisterday. Josh Alibee 
is to meet us there, so there'll be three on 
us, you see. A big day's work, but we'll 



6o Legends of Fi7'e Island Beach. 

take suthin' along to brace us up while 
we're doin' on it." 

The sun next morning was not more 
than an hour high, when these mowers had 
embarked in the hay-boat for the Beach. 
The light breeze of that muggy August 
morning, blowing a trifle on the fore-quar- 
^ ter, carried them down the river so slowly 
that in order to gain time they plied the 
oar. 

The scene which lay about them has 
changed but little in almost the hundred 
years which have passed since that morn- 
ing. The river's course to the Bay was 
just as zig-zag then as it is now. East- 
ward lay the same broad meadows, skirted 
by that dense barrier of foliage — the Noc- 
comack woods. Westward there stood 
upon the river bank where the Squasux 
road came down, a long, low one-story 
house, and below this the meadows ex- 
tended to the distant woodland. As the 
sunlight fell aslant upon these meadows, 
they presented all those lustrous grada- 



The Alowers' Pha?itom. 6i 

tions of yellow and brown that may be 
seen in the early sunlight of an August 
morning to-day. 

" There, put away yer oar, Josh ; the 
breeze stiffens," said Raner, as they neared 
the mouth of the river. 

'' Thet ere's warm work," exclaimed 
Josh, as he finished the stroke and laid 
aside the oar. " I'll tek a swaller, I be- 
lieve." 

"No, no," replied Layn; "put that jug 
back. It's too 'arly in the day to begin 
swiggin' at that. You'll hev need o' ev'ry 
drop o' your share on the Beach." 

"A couple o' swallers 'ill mek no dif- 
f'rence one way nur t'other. Not a sol'try 
horn hev I hed yet to-day, an' I've pulled 
the hull way down the river, whilst you've 
sot thar, yer elbows on yer knees," replied 
Josh, as he tipped the jug and drank. 

" Pass it along," said Raner. " Our ends 
hev all got to be kep' even to-day." 

Raner and Layn each drank, though 
lightly, and passed the jug back to Josh. 



62 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

who, remarking, " It took all t'other swaller 
to wet my throat," deliberately tipped the 
jug and drank continuously as he walked 
forward to put it in its place. 

The hay-boat went slowly, and the time 
passed tediously to men who were ambi- 
tious to be at their day's work. Of this 
Raner himself furnished the best evidence, 
as he stood by the tiller, treading from 
side to side, and knocking one foot against 
the other. 

The present generation has little notion 
of what the sailing of those days was, par- 
ticularly in the flat-bottomed, square-ended 
hay-boats. With a free wind, the course 
could be pretty well kept, but with the 
wind abeam, leeway became almost equal 
to headway, and wide calculations and 
allowances had always to be made. Layn 
had this in mind when he said, " Give the 
Inlet a wide berth or I'm afeard the tide 11 
ketch us an' draw us through." 

"She'll clear it, an' a plenty to spare," 
replied Raner. 



The Mowers' Ffiantom. 63 

" You better not be too sure 'bout that. 
I, for one, don't want 'o fare ez them 
Swan Crick fellers did." 

" What Swan Crick fellers ? " enquired 
Raner, 

'' Why, Mott an' a nother young feller — 
I dun know what his name wuz. Hain't 
you heer'd 'bout 'em ? " 

"No." 

" Well, I hed 'em on my mind when I 
said, 'Give the Inlet plenty o'room.' You 
ain't heer'd on it, then ? Well, this ere 
young Mott and t'other feller started out 
the Crick to sail their hay-boat somewheres 
east o' the Inlet. 01' man Mott hed built 
the boat, an' hed put cleats on the edges 
under 'er sides, to keep 'er from slidin off 
to leward. She sailed smart, an' hung on 
to the wind purty good, I b'lieve. The ol' 
man, though, tol' 'em to look out fur the 
Inlet, an' give it a rattlin' good distunce. 
But, by George, 'fore they knowed it, they 
wuz goin' toward the Inlet. They tried 
might an' main, puttin' out poles an' doin' 



64 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

ev'ry thing they could, to steer 'er to shore, 
but no use. They couldn't reach bottom, 
fur she kep' right squar' inter the middle 
o' the channel, an' out she went. 

" The poor devils wuz wild. The wind, 
what thar wuz on it, wuz blowin' from 
the nuthard. They lowered sail, but out 
to sea they kep' on goin'. Finely, arter 
they got out sev'ral mile, the wind 
changed to the suthard. They histed 
sail, pinted 'er straight on, an' beached 'er 
on the surf-shore off abreas' o' Muriches, 
an' the ol' man went down thar an' wracked 
the very boat he'd jist built," 

Josh, who had sat with his gun across his 
knees during Layn's account of this mishap, 
now resumed the work of cleaning his gun, 
upon which he had put all his time since 
clearmg the mouth of the river. Priming 
the musket, he raised it to his shoulder, 
took an imaginary aim, and remarked: 
" She's in royal trim now fur any bunch o' 
snipe thet shows up on the medder " 



The Mowers' Phantom. 65 

"Where did you come upon that buster 
of a fire-arm ? " inquired Layn, in jest. 

" Thet ere fire-arm, le' me tell you, hez 
been proved. She's seen sarvice, but thet 
wuz afore I got 'er." 

" Hain't she seen sarvice sence you've 
had 'er, ur plaguey nigh it?" continued 
Layn. 

"Seen sa — ar — vice sence — I've — hed 
'er?" 

" Yes, by George, yes." 

" You're talkin' to me in riddles." 

"Why, Joshua," broke in Raner, " hain't 
there been orchards girdled, a barn burnt, 
an' thirty horses made way with by some 
on you Punksholers not a great while 
back ? " 

" Exac'ly," said Layn. " That ere hints 
the matter, Josh. Wuz that ere gun one 
on 'em that wuz drawn on Judge Smith, an' 
would a' done the mischief on 'im, hedn't 
his wife happened to keep atween him an' 
the winder whilst he wuz ondressin' a-goin' 
to bed?" 



66 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

" Thar wuzn't but three on 'em at thet 
ere bus'ness, an' is it your idee to hint thet 
I wuz one on em ? Ef it be, thet's hittin' 
devhsh nigh — devlish nigh; an' I'm blasted 
ef 1 don't tek thet up," rephed Ahbee, 
spitting in his hands and stepping up to 
Layn. 

" Nay, Joshua, nay; couldn't that flint- 
lock a been there without you, or at any 
rate, afore you owned it ? " spoke Raner, to 
pacify Alibee. 

Layn discerned that he had gone too far 
in his attempt at accusation, and so in a 
bantering way, continued, " You said yer 
musket had seen sarvice. You wan't in 
the Rev'lution'ry War, nur even in a 
skirmish. The wicked thing some o' you 
Punksholers meant to do on Judge Smith 
is known to the hull Town, an' you wuz a 
braggin' 'bout the sarvice yer gun hed 
seen. What harm wuz thar, by George, in 
askin' you, straight out an' out, ef that wuz 
the sarvice she hed seen ? " 

"A devlish lot o' harm, when a man 



The Mowers' Phantom. 67 

wa'n't thar, nur nowheres near thar, nur 
never hed an idee o' bein' thar/' replied 
Josh. 

" Trim in the sail now, an' quit your 
sq'abblin','' spoke out Raner. " There, 
that'll do. Now she p'ints up better, an' 
ef she don't slide off over much, we'll 
make our landin' spot without a tack. 
Ah! that's a strong puff." 

Raner looked to windward thoughtfully 
a few minutes, and then began to whistle. 
The breeze, the onward motion of the boat, 
and the movement of the waves stirred 
his feelings, and he whistled on for a full 
half-hour. 

As the craft approached the Beach, there 

came into view spots of meadow 

" Where merry mowers, hale and strong, 
Swept scythe on scythe their swaths along 
The low green prairies of the sea." 

These scattered groups had been upon 
the meadows all night, ready to begin at 
sunrise the toil of the day. And toil it 
was too — toil that required an iron muscle 



68 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

and iron endurance. Yet, toil and moil 
though it were, beach-haying was always a 
welcomed season. It broke the monotony 
of farm life. There was the sail to and fro, 
the breeze from the sea in its first fresh- 
ness, the beat of the surf, the wide view 
on every side, the visit to the ocean at 
night, and often a race with the slow-creep- 
ing tide to determine whether the mowers 
should lay their stint, or the water usurp 
their place. 

The three mowers had made an early 
start and were in good season, but the 
sight of others at work roused their antici- 
pations of the day's labor, and Layn sug- 
gested, " Let's give our scythes a thorer 
goin' over. We'll save time by it." 

They did this, and then Josh said to 
Raner, " Shell I put an edge on_y^/' scythe ?" 

" No," was the reply. " I'll do that fur 
myself. You come aft an' take the tiller." 

Over the ocean, low down on the hori- 
zon, lay a bank of fog. The mowers 
noticed this, and Raner remarked, " It may 



The Mowers' Phantom. 69 

lay there all day, or it may clear away an' 
be gone when the sun gits higher and the 
day warmer." 

^' Thar's no tellin' nuthin' 'bout what 
it'll do, you'd better say," replied Josh, 
with a laugh. 

All along they had feared the wind 
would fail them when well over under the 
Beach. But it continued to blow; and in 
as good season as the mowers had hoped, 
they reached the meadows. Josh stood 
forward, anchor in hand, and jumping 
ashore, walked the full length of the cable 
and planted the anchor deep in the soft 
meadow soil. The old sail was quickly 
furled, and the three mowers, with scythes 
and traps, set out for Arter's lot. Raner 
led the way, carrying, besides his scythe, a 
rake and hammer and wedges to hang 
anew the scythes, if need were. Layn was 
almost abreast of him, managing with some 
difficulty his scythe, a pitchfork, and a run- 
let of water; while Josh followed a short 
distance behind with the jug. Watching 



yo Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

his chance, he Ufted the jug and stole a 
draught. 




"Le' me see," said Raner, approaching 
the place of their day's work. "Accordin' 
to the last division, the stake o' every lot 
stands on the west side, an' the numberin's 
on the east side o' the stake." 

A little examination showed which Arter's 
lot was, and then Raner said, " We'll strike 
in here." 

This was not the order to begin cutting, 
but for those immediate preparations which 
can be made nowhere else than on the ex- 



The Mowers' Phantom. 71 

act spot. And so there followed driving of 
heel-wedges, twisting and ranging of blade 
with handle, stretching out of the foot to 
determine whether the scythe-point was too 
far out or too close in, and last, a stroke in 
the grass for final approval. 

" We're all ready, then, be we ? " asked 
Raner. ''Well, I'll lead. Josh, you come 
arter me; an' Layn '11 be last;" and getting 
into position, the lusty mowers struck their 
swaths. Regularly the graceful strokes 
fell, succeeded by the hitching step forward. 

" Ah ! my scythe's doin' purty work, I 
tell you," remarked Raner. " How does 
your'n cut, Layn ? " 

"Royally." 

" An' your'n, Alibee ? " 

" Never better." 

" We're all well under way, then, an' the 
grass's in fair condition. Can we lay it by 
night, think you, Layn?" 

"I guess so ; but by King George, we've 
got 'o keep movin', le' me tell yer." 



7 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

" Alibee, can you stan' it to keep 'er jog- 
gin' all day long at this gait ? " 

*' Thet's what I come fur, I b'lieve, to do 
a day's work with the rest on yen" 

There had been some sort of an under- 
standing between Raner and Layn when 
driving to the landing, that Alibee, who 
was a loud boaster, should do such a day's 
work as he had seldom done. It is easy, 
therefore, to see why Raner was so partic- 
ular about assigning him the middle place. 
Raner and Layn were both excellent 
scythes-men, and with one to lead and the 
other to drive, Alibee must keep their 
pace all day. 

Alibee, be it said, was not an energetic 
man. Some of his acquaintances called 
him a ''blower." Had he been hired to go 
to the Beach and take two men with him 
to cut a plot of grass, there would have 
been mowing done as a matter of course ; 
but the day, nevertheless, would have 
passed easily enough. The bouts would 
have been short ones, with a spell of whet- 



TJie Mowers' Phantoi7i. 73 

ting at each end. There would have been 
halts here and there, while he looked to 
see how the grass lay ahead, and whether 
it was down much or tangled. And when 
such pretexts failed, Alibee would have 
found It encouraging to count just how 
many swaths had been cut, and calculate 
how many more remained to be done. At 
midday, too, a long nooning would have 
been taken, with likely a stroll to kill a 






mess of snipe. Let, however, a few months 
pass, and beach-haying become the topic 
of talk at a tavern gathering, and with 
what noisy bragging would Alibee recount 



74 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

what he and two others accomplished in 
two days last summer. 

"There's the first bout round," remarked 
Raner, "an' now whet up fur the next." 

"An' wet up, too," broke in Josh. 

"Yes, yes," seconded Layn; "a good 
horn all round." 

All drank; but Josh was last at the jug, 
and improved his opportunity. 

Each man took up his scythe again, 
wiped the blade with a wisp of grass, and 
struck with drawing motion his rifle along 
the blade. Every blow sent out those 
ringing notes — the test of good steel. 

The whetting over, zithe — zithe — zithe — 
went the scythes once more, the graceful 
strokes beating again their triple measure. 
But before the mowers had finished their 
second bout, the outposts of the fog, which 
lay banked low over the ocean when they 
were crossing the Bay, came and settled 
about them. So intent, though, were the 
mowers upon the work in hand, that the 
fog's insidious presence was not noted, till 



The Mo7vers' Phantom. 75 

making the last stroke out, they straight- 
ened up and looked around. They could 
not at first realize the change. When they 
had struck in at the other end of the swath, 
their view extended over miles — the wide 
Bay and the blue shore beyond, lay to the 
northward; west and east stretched the 
meadows with their sinuous edges; to the 
south were the Beach hills and the gap 
through them, affording a glimpse of the 
ocean. What wonder is it, then, that the 
mowers, bending down and watching in- 
tently to see where the next stroke should 
fall, lost consciousness of their surround- 
ings, and were, the first instant on looking 
up, bewildered to see the impenetrable gray 
on all sides ? 

"Well, I sw'ar," spoke Josh. "This 
era's sudden — I'll be darned ef I knowed 
where I wuz for a second urtwo." 

"Nuther did I," replied Layn. "At 
fust, I tried to git my bearin's, an' it both- 
ered me, fur thar wuzn't no bearin's to 
be got. Then I come to my senses, an' 



76 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

knowed I wuz right here on the medder 
mowin', with this ere bank o' fog all round 
us." 

A fog, as everybody knows, plays all 
sorts of tricks with the judgment. A man 
may drive over a road a hundred times and 
think himself acquainted with every turn 
and hollow, with every clump of trees, 
w^ith every bank, rock, or bunch of 
shrubbery by the roadside; but let a dense 
fog come down, and memory at once re- 
fuses to match the new impressions with 
the old. The hollows are deeper and the 
bends of the road more abrupt, the clump 
of trees has shifted its position or has en- 
tirely disappeared, and every rock and 
bunch of shrubbery becomes a strange ob- 
ject. If he begins to doubt, his judgment 
is completely upset, and he concludes he 
has taken the wrong road. 

A man may have sailed from shore to 
shore of a body of water so often as to feel 
almost confident of doing it with eyes shut; 
let, however, a fog settle and blot out every 



The Mowers'' Phantom. 



77 



surrounding object, and ten to one he will 
conclude, before he has sailed a mile, that 
he has not kept his course, or that the 
wind has shifted. Then it is all up witn 
him; confusion and uncertainty follow, 
and there can be no telling where he will 
make land. 

" What's it goin' to do, Raner? — hang 
here all day like this? " asked Layn. 



^i^Mri 







"It acts to me, with this light wind a 
blowin', as ef there'dbe lots o' fog adriftin' 
ail day. But fog or no fog," replied 
Raner, ''we mus' keep a steppin'." 

At Raner's suggestion the stroke was 



78 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

resumed, and the mowers gave no furthei 
heed to the fog whose mysterious depths 
had shut them in, and severed, as it 
seemed, all connection with the little world 
they knew. 

Round and round they mowed, bout 
after bout, swinging their blades with the 
same lively stroke. For three hours Ali- 
bee stood the driving well, and then all of 
a sudden he broke out with, " This 'ere 
ain't squar' — it's urgin' the thing a little 
too much. My scythe's losin' her edge; 
the ol' rule is to whet at ev'ry corner, an' 
drink at ev'ry round." 

"Well, ain't we drunk at ev'ry round?" 
answered Layn; "an' I took notice thet 
you swilled ez long ez any on us." 

"Thet I'll 'low," said Josh; "but we 
ain't whet at ev'ry corner. Thet's my 
p'int. Th' ain't nuthin' much made, ez I 
kin see, by drivin' so like the devil. You'll 
wear me threadbare afore sundown, keepin' 
me here in the middle. It's the hardest 
place to mow in, by a darn sight." 



The Mowers' Phantom. 79 

" Joshua," said Raner, " I thought you 
Manor men wuz all such cracked mowyers. 
Here's Layn an' me, we're only common 
mowyers, an' you can't keep your end up 
with us, hey?" 

"Yes, I kin," replied Josh; "but what's 
the use o' killin' yerself. We can't cut this 
ere medder to-day nohow, an' I don't see 
the use o' workin' hard ez you kin swing, an' 
goin' home middle to-morrer to do nuthin' 
all the arternoon. By gosh," he continued, 
sighing, as if partly exhausted, " I'm 
darned ef I don't b'lieve some sort o' con- 
trivance could be rigged up to do this ere 
mowin'." 

" What sort o' a contrivance. Josh ? " 
quickly inquired Layn. 

"Why, thar could be three ur four 
scythes hitched on to a post to swing round, 
an' cut twice ez fast ez we're doin' on it. 
An' one o' these ere days some ere feller'll 
rig up jist sich a machine." 

" Not in our day, Joshua," laughed 
Raner. 



8o Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

'^ No, no; not in our day," repeated Layn, 
joining in the laugh. 

'' Your laughin' don't 'mek no dif'runce. 
I tell ye, I b'lieve it'll come yit." 

"Why don't you try it yerself, ef yer so 
confident ? " asked Layn. 

"I'm bedarned ef I don't b'lieve I could, 
ef I hed time, an' tools, an' all the traps 
that's wanted fur sich things. Them 
scythes, don't ye see, could be rigged to go 
roun' jist like thet;" and here Alibee cut a 
stroke to show what he meant. " Yes," he 
went on, growing earnest over his vague 
idea, "you could rig jist about three strap- 
pin' good scythes on to a post to swing 
roun' jist ez easy ez thet;" and here again 
he cut a dashmg stroke. 

" What a cussed foolish idee that is. 
Josh," spoke up Raner, a little vexed at 
the absurd notion. " How the devil, I'd 
like to know, would you make the post 
go?" 

*' Thet ere could be done somehow ur 
nuther. Thar'd be a way hit on, if a man 



The Mowers' Phantojji. 8i 

taxed his noggin' long enough," repHed 
Josh, hesitatingly. 

Raner and Layn again both heartily 
laughed, and Josh said nothing more upon 
the subject. Whether, though, it was his 
remonstrance, or whether Raner thought 
they would thereby be able to cut more 
grass, he gave word at the next corner to 
stop and whet. This change put Josh in 
better spirits, for when the whetting was 
finished, he remarked, " Thar's only jist 
one thing a lackin', and thet's the jug. Ef 
thet ere jug could only foller us roun', we 
couldn't ask no more." 

" Ef it did," said Layn," you'd be all the 
time aguzzlin'." 

" I ain't no bigger guzzler than you be," 
retorted Josh. 

The morning wore on, and it seemed to 
Alibee that noon would never come. Every 
stroke went against his will. At one time 
he was on the point of deserting, and leav- 
ing Raner and Layn there to drive each 
other; but seeing how dense the fog was, 



82 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

and remembering he had no other way 
of getting off the Beach than to walk three 
or four miles east to the groups of mowers 
they had passed in the morning, and fear- 
ing that he might get lost should he at- 
tempt this — a thought which made him 
shudder — he held himself in control. The 
fog at this time was so thick that one could 
not distinguish an object four rods away, 
and the impossibility of measuring with the 
eye what had been cut, and what yet re- 
mained of the plot apportioned for the 
morning, was disheartening to Alibee. To 
his mind it seemed an endless cutting in a 
prison of fog. If, however, he had lost cal- 
culation and had thereby become dispirited, 
the plot was lessening just as rapidly as if 
in full view from start to finish. And 
shortly after midday, the mowers walked 
up the last narrow strip, leaving the morn- 
ing's stint all laid. 

" Now fur a chance at what victuals we 
fetched along. You go to the hay-boat^ 
Josh, arter our pails, while Layn an' me 



The Moii)ers' Phantom. Zt^ 

heap up some o' this grass to set on whilst 
we're eatin'." 

" Gi' me a swaller fust," repHed Alibee; 
and after satisfying- his thirst, he started 
for the hay-boat. 

Ten minutes passed, and out of the fog 
came a voice, " Which way be yer ? How 
fur be I frum the boat ? " 

''This way o' you, an' to the nuthard," 
rephed Raner. " Don't you hear the surf 
to suthard o' you ? " 

Groping about a little longer, he found 
the boat and soon came out of the fog with 
the dinner pails. 

The mowers, to state it as they would^ 
lost no time in falling to. Their fare was 
plain — plainer, indeed, than was usual at 
home. But though plain, the labor near 
the sea had whet their appetites, and 
they ate with keener relish than at their 
own tables. Then, too, the jug came in 
and played its part rather more freely than 
it would have done at home. They talked 
of the morning's work, and discussed the 



84 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

probabilities of cutting the rest of the 
meadow that afternoon and getting away 
for home before sundown. 

*'We ain't laid but little more'n a third 
on it," remarked Layn. " It's my opinion 
we'll hev to stay here on the Beach all 
night, an' cut the balance 'arly to-morrer 
mornin'. Then, ef thar's any wind, we 
kin reach Squasux landin' middle fore- 
noon." 

" Thet's the idee exac'ly," replied Josh. 
" Tek it easy this arternoon, quit work 
arly, an' I'll hev a chance to git a bunch o' 
snipe. We kin git home at noon to-morrer 
at thet rate, jist ez easy ez you kin toss up 
yer hat." 

" What 'o you say 'bout it, Raner ? " 
asked Layn. 

"Well, I wanted to git off to-night, but 
ef we're goin' to do it, we've got to cut 
faster this arternoon then we hev this 
mornin'," replied Raner. 

A half hour was all the time taken for 
dinner. Layn carried the pails back to the 



The Mowers' Phajitom. 85 

boat, and the mowers finished their rest by 
whetting their scythes carefully, giving 
them a keener edge than they would take 
time for in the midst of work. 

" Ef we're all ready fur work ag'in," said 
Raner, '* we'll cut in this d'rection this 
arternoon. Down here an' up ag'in on the 
west side o' the lot, ef we kin see where 
the west side o' the lot is." 

Alibee fell into his old place without a 
word of complaint. Raner began with the 
stroke he had maintained all day, but it 
was evident that Alibee intended to make 
his stroke in slower time, while Layn was 
not so anxious to drive him as he had been 
throughout the morning. 

An hour passed, and Raner, after pacing 
over what yet remained uncut, remarked, 
" We can't poke along in this way, ef we've 
got any idee o' layin' this piece afore night. 
We come on here to cut, an' fur my part, I 
want to git done and hev it over with." 

" This 'ere's good 'nough," replied Josh. 
"Let it go et this." 



86 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

The wind, they noticed, was blowing 
stronger, and the fog began to sweep past 
them in dense scuds, at times suddenly 
growing thin as if about to clear away. 
Occasionally a yellowish tinge overhead 
gave indications that the sun had almost 
broken through, but presently a thick scud 
would come and shut the mowers in again. 
Thus, with fantastic behavior, the fog 
came and went. Two or three times, when 
it came the thickest, and darkened rapidly 
about them, they broke their stroke and 
looked around. 

'' Fust it's dark an' close, then it's lighter, 
then it'll come in agin thick, an' then, the 
nex' thing, the sun all but breaks through 
it. What a witchin' sort o' an arternoon 
it is," said Layn. 

" I'd a darned sight ruther it ud gether 
itself up an' shower. Then thar'd be some 
likelihood o' the sun's comin' out an' dryin' 
on it up," replied Josh. "This ere thick 
an' thin, dark an' light, 1 don't like. 
Raner," he continued, "you couldn't a 
picked a wuss day." 



The Moivers'' Phantom. 87 

" I never knowed sech a day afore in my 
life," spoke Layn. " Miles o' this fog has 
been runnin' by us all day long, an' this 
arternoon it's a loomin' itself up an' 
meltin' away ag'in in all kinds o' shapes." 

The long swaths they were now mow- 
ing lay in direction to and from the ocean, 
and the place where the bouts ended and 
the indispensable jug stood in readiness, 
chanced to be so situated with reference to 
the gap between the hills that it afforded 
a view directly out upon the sea. The na- 
ture of the fog made this view more or 
less indistinct, at times shutting it entirely 
out of sight. Here the wind would bank 
up the fog, twist it into fantastic shapes, 
and blow them all away, only to summon 
more of the pliant medium and heap it up 
again into more grotesque masses. The 
mowers, dull as their perception was, at 
last saw this, and it wrought upon their 
minds. The feeling kept coming up that 
the appearances which the fog assumed 



88 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

through the gap were due to some kind of 
witchcraft. All the superstitious stories 
they had ever heard about the Beach 
vividly recurred to them, and these idle 
tales now assumed the very force of truth; 
and so they approached each time the spot 
that opened up the view, with increasing 
dread. They slighted their whetting at 
this corner, and would not have stopped at 
all had the jug been elsewhere. Alibee's 
apprehensions thatwhat he had seen through 
the gap boded evil to them, were the first 
to get the upper hand of him, and sud- 
denly stepping ahead and cutting the first 
stroke, he broke out, " By thunder, gi' me 
a chance to lead once. I'm darned ef I'm 
going to stay on this ere Beach to-night, 
nohow." 

Raner and Layn were startled by this 
sudden freak of Alibee's, but they fell 
into line and followed with quicker stroke 
than they had heretofore made. Alibee 
proved himself equal to the place he had 
assumed, and the next corner was quickly 



The Mowers' Phantom. 89 

reached. Here the whetting was done 
with new energy, and the scythes flew 
again. 

" Keep 'er up, Josh," urged Layn; " we're 
hard on ter you. I ain't got a bit more 
notion then you hev o' stayin' on here all 
night." 

They came round again to the dreaded 
corner. Alibee grated his teeth as he 
thought of it, and his breathing was hard 
enough to be heard by the others. Coming 
out first and looking seaward, the very 
thought he intended not to mention slipped 
from his control, and he spoke out, " Thar 
she is ag'in." But recovering himself to 
some extent, he turned quickly about and 
continued, " Layn, you lead this time. 
Then it'll fall ekal on all on us. Ev'ry 
man's got a dif'runt stroke, an' ef he leads 
once, mows in the middle once, an' follers 
once, he gits a chance one time ev'ry 
three, to swing his nat'rul stroke." 

Stepping to the jug he took it up and, 
shaking it, resumed, " I swar, we ain't got 



9© Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

but 'bout one good horn apiece, and thet 
puts us in a hell-sight wuss fix then we're 
in now." 

They drained the jug to the last drop, 
and bent again to their work. The pace 
they were keeping was exhausting, but 
they never slackened. Another bout was 
finished within a dozen strokes, when 
Layn burst out, '' Here we come ag'in to 
thet blasted gap. My blamed eyes won't 
keep away from it whenever we git roun' 
here." 

^'■Youve seen it, then, hev yer ? " asked 
Josh. 

" Hang it, yes," replied Layn; " an' I've 
tried not to, fur three times now." 

" So hev I, an' I seem hell-bent to look 
thet way whenever I git roun'." 

Raner said not a word. It was his turn 
to lead, and he started in without suffering 
the talk to go further. They were work- 
ing to the utmost of their strength. Layn 
and Alibee cut wider swaths than at any 
previous time. They reached the end, and 



The Mo7ve?^s* Fhantom. 91 

Layn said, " Raner, you go to t'other end, 
an' roun' thet corner, so we kin mow by thar 
without stoppin'. Josh an' me'U cut across 
this ere end, so's not to lose no time." 

Raner complied; but the others noticed 
that instead of returning the instant he had 
accomplished the purpose, he stood a mo- 
ment and looked out through the gap. 

When he returned, Layn could not re- 
frain from asking, " Did you see it ? " 

"Yes," replied Raner, "an' I swar ] 
don't like it." 

They plunged into work again with 
greater determination. It was in this way 
they kept their courage up; for every time 
they stopped to whet, their feelings were 
in a turmoil. The very pace they were 
working put them in all the worse condi- 
tion. But the plot was lessening rapidly, 
and so they drove themselves on. Strange 
to say, some time passed without a word 
further in allusion to what had been seen. 
But while there was for this short period a 
dogged spell upon them to say nothing 



92 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

more about what each was sure the other 
had seen, the very bugaboo in their minds 
made all the more headway because of their 
silence; and in spite of themselves, they 
kept glancing through the gap, when they 
cut across the end where the empty jug 
lay. The expedient of curving that end 
did not dispel their alarm, for when they 
rounded the broad curve, some sinister in- 
fluence impelled them to look seaward. 

" She's fog color," abruptly exclaimed 
Josh, startling both Layn and Raner, and 
causing them to look at the same instant. 
" She's got ev'ry stitch spread, too." 

"An' still headin' right squar* on, I 
sw'ar," said Layn. And pointing, he con- 
tinued, " Raner, do you see ? We ain't got 
no sich breeze a blowin' here ez she's got 
thar." 

"What the hell's dif'runce, tell me, does 
that make with her ? That wizard o' a 
ship 'ud have fair wind an' plenty on it, ef 
she wuz sailin' dead to wind'ard." 

" Now, she's gone ag'in," spoke Alibee, 
"an' thet's what she's done afore." 



The Mowers'' Phantom. 93 

The mowers began a new bout, and 
Raner remarked, " Such things, hell take 
'em, have been seen afore, though a long 
time back, I heerd tell on 'em when I wuz 
a boy. It's a spectre o' some ship Kidd 
has sunk with all her crew on board, a 
ha'ntin' this coast. Thar's no tellin' what 
the mischief'll come out on it all to us, 
ne'ther. He wuz off the Inlet thar sev'ral 
times with the 'Royal Eduth.' I've hearn, 
time and ag'in, o' how he come in the Inlet 
with his long-boat, an' got game o' the 
Injuns, an' the devil may know how many 
lives he put an end to when off here." 

The mowers came again to the bout 
leading up to the broad curve. Alibee, 
who a moment ago had said, " I'm all 
o' a cold sweat," looked out upon the 
ocean and exclaimed, " By the very devil 
himself, see how much nigher she's in ! 
Confound ef I want 'o stay here an' cut 
much longer." 

This exclamation produced but one 
result — a wider swath. They had plunged 



94 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

into deeper stroke that afternoon after 
every expression of fear, for the mowers 
tried, in the prodigious effort put forth, to 
drown, for the moment, their apprehen- 
sions. But the drafts they had made upon 
their strength were now telHng upon them 
sorely. They could not sustain the effort, 
and soon lapsed into a slower stroke; and 
although the bout was considerably shorter, 
they were a third longer in cutting it. 
Though wrought to the highest point with 
fear, they were powerless to resist the be- 
witching influence to look seaward as they 
mowed round the curve. This time that 
strange shape, looming up again, struck 
terror through them. 

" By heavens," gasped Alibee, " how 
much closer in is she a comin' ? An' look! 
look ! thet's a woman standin' on the rail 
thar, for'ard, white ez the ship. Not an- 
other soul on board, ez I kin see." 

The mowers stood gazing a second with 
scythes poised, and then finished their 
strokes. Just around the curve Alibee 
stole a glance behind him. With piercing 
tone he cried, ''Good God! thar's thet 



The Mowers' Phaiitom. 95 

woman, on the hills yunder, comin straight 
fur us; an' the ship, look! she's bow on. 
Quick, quick, run fur the hay-boat." 

Hurriedly they gathered their traps and 
ran to the boat, casting looks behind every 
few steps. They had left the jug — the 
empty jug — but not a second could be lost. 
They threw their scythes into the boat, 
Alibee ran for the anchor, and came run- 
ning back with it, dragging the cable after 
him. Raner and Layn in their excitement 
had already pushed off the boat, and Josh, 
splashing through the water, tumbled on 
board, anchor in hand. In an instant the 
mowers had disappeared in the fog. 




ENCHANTED TREASURE 



PuRTY nigh a hull week that ship hed 
been seen manoovrin' outside the Beach. 
Fust, she'd 'pear to be purty well in, an 
then she'd be way off a'most out o' sight; 
an' so it went, off an' on, off an' on. The 
neighbors — thar wa'n't many on 'em, the 
houses bein' scatterin' — hed seen 'er; an 
thar wuz a good deal o' conjectur 'bout 
what she could be doin'. Nobody 
could tell, Thar wusn't no war — ef thai* 
hed 'a been, 'twouldn't 'a been 'tall puz- 
zlin' what she wur a-manoovrin' at on the 
coast. On a Friday arternoon she dis'- 
peared, an' nothin' wuz seen o' her on a 



Enchanted Treasure. 97 

Saturday. Sunday mornin' arly, I looked 
over to the Beach, but didn't see anythin' 
o' the ship. She'd gone fur good, we con- 
cluded. 

Long middle forenoon, John an' me 
made up our minds to go to the Beach. 
It wuz hossfootin time, an' that night wuz 
full moon. We put up suthin' to eat, an' 
told the folks to hum that we wuz goin', 
an' didn't calc'late to be back till long 
towards nex' mornin'. 



Our plan wuz to sail over, saunter long 
the Beach that arternoon, an' 'bout night- 
fall git a pen ready to put the hossfeet in, 
an' when the moon wuz up an' the tide 
flood, ketch all the hossfeet we could. 
That's the best time o' the month to ketch 



98 Lege) ids of Fii-e Island Beach. 

'em — full moon and flood tide. Hossfeet, 
you know, crawl up in pairs on to the shore 
at the height o' the flood. You wade along 
an' find 'em in the edge o' the water; 
throw 'em up onto shore high and dry, an' 
stick their tails into ground. They're fast, 
then. You got to work quick, 'cause the 
nick o' the tide don't stay on long. It's 
git all you kin afore they go off. When 
they're gone, you kin take your own time 
in loadin' 'em into the boat, ur puttin' 'em 
into pen till you kin take 'em off. 

John an' me intended to put 'em in a 
pen, let 'em be thar till we could bring on 
the scow to load 'em into, and then tow 
'em off. One year we got purty nigh three 
thousan' hossfeet in one night. It's ex- 
citin' work to wade along, lookin' close to 
see em, fur the water's dark an' they're 
dark; ur else hittin' 'em with your feet, an' 
then reachin' to find 'em. You got to be 
more'n car'ful, though, 'bout one thing, an' 
that's not to git their tails stuck into yer 
feet ur hands. Ef you do^ an' it goes in 



Enchanted Treasure. 99 

deep, ten chances to one you're a "goner." 

Well, John an' me expected to mek a 
big haul that night. We went down to the 
landin, an' fussed 'roun' thar, gittin' the 
old skiff ready. We warn't in any hurry, 
fur we hed all day afore us. 'Twur one o' 
them shiny, quiet June days, an' it bein' 
Sunday made it 'pear all the more so. 

The Bay wuz ez blue ez could be — the 
water wuz becomin warm — that's what 
made it blue. Thar wuz only a little mite 
o' wind, jist enough to fill the sail. 

I remember that sailin' ez plain ez if it 
all happened yisterday. I steered part 
o' the way, then John took hold, an' I 
stretched myself out in the skiff. The sun 
shun warm — that kind o' pleasant warmth 
that you wanted to let soak in an' in. 

The skiff slid for'ard easy — no tuggin' 
an' jumpin'; the waves — the water wuz 
only roughened a little — rippled an' slapped 
up alongside, soundin' holler to me in the 
bottom of the skiff, an' the water bubbled 



loo Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

aroun' the rudder — that's 'bout all that 
wuz to it, but somehow 1 could 'a sailed on 
for a fortni't. 




The tide wuz low when we got across, 
but we had no diffikilty to git close to the 
medder, ez John steered up into a dreen. 
We took out the mast, rolled the mutton- 
leg sail round it, an' drawed the skiff up 
into the grass. Then we eatsomethin', put 
the rest o' our victuals away till night, an' 
went over to the surf shore. Thar we set 



Enchanted Treasure. loi 

down a short spell, jist ez ev'rybody does, 
I guess, when they go over to the ocean an' 
have a plenty o' time to spar',ez we hed. 
Fin'ly we begun our walk 'long shore to see 
what we could find. 

This ere walk 'long shore wuz one reason 
why we'd come over to the Beach in the 
forenoon. I don't remember how fur we 
walked, but we sauntered along an hour or 
so — the sun wuz quite a piece to the west — 
when all on a sudden John p'inted off shore 
an' says, " Jess, look-a-thar. What do you 
mek o' that? Thar she is ag'in standin' 
right onto shore." 

"That's her," says I; 'that's the same 
ship, an' she ain't a-beatin' nuther, with the 
wind this way." I somehow kind o' felt 
that that ship wuzn't standin' close in fur 
no good puppose, and I didn't care to be in 
sight on-shore, ez thar hed been no end o' 
strange things done on that Beach fust an' 
last. I thought quick o' what, accordin' to 
all accounts, hed happened in my gran- 
ther's days, an' even thirty year back, in 



I02 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

my father's, so I says agin to John, " Come, 
let's git up in the hills out o' sight." 

In less 'an no time, we slipped round the 
hills, climbed up one on 'em to where we 
could could jist peek over, an' laid down. 
The ship kep' a comin'. She didn't seem 
to change her course by a yard's breadth. 
Ev'ry sail wuz spread an' pullin', an' I tell 
you she wur a purty sight to look at. 

'Fore long, John says, " Jess, that ves- 
sel's got same puppose, an' we'd better go 
east." 

So we scooted 'long behind the hills, an' 
ev'ry low gap atween the hills we come to, 
we'd stop car'ful an' look out to see ef the 
ship kep' on the same course. Ev'ry time 
we looked out, she wuz nigher an' nigher. 
When we'd got a stretchin' good piece east 
we didn't run any further, but crawled up 
a low hill to take a good look-out agin. 
By this time, the ship wur pretty well in. 
Afore long, she rounded up into the wind, 
clewed up her squarsails, an' anchored. 



Enchanted Treasure. 103 

"What're they doin' now, John?" I asked; 
" kin you mek out ? " 

" Lowerin' a yawl, it looks like to me," 
he says. 







An' so they wuz. In a short time the 
yawl pushed out from the ship, an' then I 
could see plain enough what it wuz, an' 
that some on the ship's crew wuz comin' 
ashore in that ere yawl. 

We hunted round fur a place to hide, 
'cause we knowed they couldn't be a-comin' 
ashore fur water. There wuzn t no water 
to be got. Behind us wuz a clump o' cedars 
purty thick, so we run 'long a windin' 



I04 Legends of Fhe Island Beach. 

holler, an' crep' up into that bunch o' low 
cedars. When we looked out, the yawl 
wuz behind the hills; but purty soon it 
come into range near shore, an' disap- 
peared ag'in, fur the way on it wuz, thar wur 
a small gap 'tween the hills that give us 
this sight o' the yawl. Arter the yawl got 
across that gap, we waited a long time — I 
tell you it wuz long — afore we see anythin' 
more on 'em. We gotscared a-waitin'; fur 
how could we tell but what they wuz 
mekin' towards us ? While I'd got sort o' 
tired a-strainin' an' lookin' here an' thar, 
an' fell to conject'rin' what under the sun 
wuz goin' to turn out on it all, John says 
all on a sudden, '' Jess, look, thar's one on 
'em on yunder hill." 

I looked quick, and thar stood a sailor 
with a spy-glass searchin' in ev'ry d'rec- 
tion. We crouched flat, scratchin' our 
hands an' face in gittin' under the branches 
near ground. We'd a been layin' down all 
the time, but a spy-glass is purty fur- 
sighted, an' we knowed it, so we crawled 



Enchanted Treasure. 105 

under the branches to be all the more out 
o' sight. 

In jist about three minutes the sailor 
wuz gone. Then we hed another time o' 
fearin' what 'ud come next, but soon some 
men 'peared on the top o' the hill. Thar 
wuz five on 'em. I breathed hard, an' so 
did John, till we see they wurn't comin' 
towards us. They wuz carryin' somethin' 
heavy, ez they'd stop, set it down, an' take 
turns. An' when they changed what they 
wuz carryin', they changed shovels. They 
hed shovels with 'em, for these w^e could 
see plain enough. 

These five men went onwards to a hill in 
the middle of the Beach — the highest hill 
within sev'ral miles — an' stopped on the 
side o' it toward the ocean. They stopped 
a long while an' 'peared to be takin' certain 
ranges. Fin'ly they begun to dig. Ev'ry 
single one o' the five wur a-diggin'. The 
bank o' course kep' a growin', and got so 
high, ur the hole got so deep, I dun know 
which, that we couldn't see 'em any longer 



io6 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

a-diggin'. Nex' they all come out, took 
what they hed fetched with 'em, and put it 
into the hole. Then thar wuz a long halt 
— all on 'em down in the hole. Not one 
on 'em wuz seen fur a long time. That 
time they wuz out o' sight so long that 
John proposed to skulk to our boat. 

But I says, " No, we wun't run no risks." 
He wuz afeard, an' so wuz I. We hadn't 
even our old flint-locks with us. They 
would a'boostered up our courage consid- 
'rable. I wuz right, though, 'bout stayin' 
where we wuz. We shouldn't a hed time 
to get halfway to our boat, 'fore they come 
up out o' the hole, an' begun to shovel the 
sand in agin. I couldn't mek out but four 
shov'lin', but I never thought much on it 
at fust. When the hole, though, got purty 
nigh full — you could sort o' tell by the banks 
— I couldn't then mek out but four men. 
I strained an' looked till there wuz dark 
spots a-swimmin' 'fore my eyes, and then I 
whispered to John — for we wuz to the 



E?icha7ited Tj-easiire. 107 

wind'ard on the men — sayin', *' John, how 
many do you mek out a-shov'lin' ? 

" Four," says he, " only four, an' I been 
countin' 'em agin an' agin." 

" That's all I kin mek out uther. 
Didn't five on 'em come ashore ?" 

" I know thar wuz five," says John; " I 
see them five jist ez plain ez I see them ere 
four now. I counted five on 'em in two 
dif'runt places." 

The hole wuz filled, they spatted on the 
sand with their shovels — that ere made me 
all the time think o' buryin' somebody — 
an' then them four sailors went back to the 
yawl. 



^ 



John an' me waited and watched an- 
other long, tejus time — 1 suppose they wuz 



io8 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

a-waitin fur the best chance to git their 
yawl through the surf. It's easier to come 
on, you know, than it is to git back agin. 

Through that ere gap 'tween the hills, 
though, we see the yawl ez they rowed off 
to the ship, and we breathed consid'rable 
easier. Anchor wuz huv up, the sails un- 
clewed, an' the ship tacked off to suth- 
'ard. 

The days is long that time o' year, an' it 
wuz well onto sundown afore the ship got 
under way. When we see she wuz headin' 
oif, we made fur our skiff. 

We gin up all idee o' hossfootin' that 
night. It wuz too bad to leave the Beach, 
but we hed no mind to stay thar. We wuz 
mighty afeard, you see, an' thar's no use 
o' denyin' it — the thoughts o' what be- 
come o' that fifth man wuz boogerish;so 
we put for hum. 

It would 'a been one o* the very best 
nights for hossfootin'. The tide wuz high, 
an' the moon come up over the Beach big 
an' full; but the Beach lay all dusky an' 



Enchanted Treasure. 109 

dark under the moon, an' the night seemed 
owly. We laid our course straight across. 
It wurn't pleasant sailin', though, ez it hed 
been in the mornin'; fur the waves kep' 
mekin' moanin' noises an' guggling's all 
'round the boat. I wuz chilly, an' my 
feelin's crawled over me, and kep' crawlin' 
over me till we got to the landin'. 

The folks wuz su'prised to see us. We 
got hum 'bout bed-time, an' told at once 
what we'd seen; an' instid o' gittin' off to 
bed 'arly, ez we al'ays did Sunday nights to 
git a good start Monday mornin' — instid o' 
gittin' off to bed, we all sot up an' talked a 
long spell about it. 

When I went to bed I couldnt' go to 
sleep, 'cause I kep' thinkin' over the hull 
matter. That day an' that ere bright 
night hev al'ays seemed to me jist like two 
days into one. Thar wurn't any daybreak, 
fur the moonlight wuz ez bright ez day- 
light, an' you couldn't tell when one went 
an' another come. I s'pose though, arter 
all, that wuz a nat'rul thing in June, when 



no Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

the sun rises 'arliest in the year; but I never 
noticed it afore ur sence. 

Two ur three days arterward, some o' 
the neighbors stopped to the house in the 
edge o'the ev'nin', an' mongst other things 
that wuz talked over wuz that ere ship; 
fur, you see, she hed been noticed by all 
the people o' that section the week afore, 
an' now she wuz gone — nothin' more'd 
been seen o' her. I told what John an' me 
hed seen, an' so the story got afloat. All 
summer long, way into fall, neighbors an' 
people livin' quite a distance away would 
stop and ask me 'bout it — full a dozen men 
from the middle o' the Islan' stopped, fust 
an' last, to ask me if ittwan't the same ship 
some o' their mowers see, one foggy day six 
weeks later on, when they wuz on the Beach 
cuttin' salt hay. Winter nights, we now 
an' then would git to talkin' it over 'round 
the fireplace. Well, time went on, an' 
young people ez they growed up would ask 
me to tell it to them. 

I've told it a good many times — a good 



Enchanted Treasure. i t i 

many times. You see, it wur over fifty 
year ago sence it happened. 

" Did anybody go to the spot an' see 
what wuz buried thar? " 

Some dare-devils from away West some- 
wheres tried to dig thar. They took a 
clear night with only a little wind a-blowin' 
an' a few clouds afloat, but when they got 
fairly to work, it grew pitch dark, an' foggy, 
ez quick ez a candle goes out. The air 
got so thick they couldn't scarcely breathe, 
an' then a skel'ton ghost with a dagger in 
its hand, that hed some kind o' pale flame 
creepin' an' burnin' on the blade, 'peared 
right above 'em. It stood a minute an' 
shook the dagger, an' then begun to move 
'round 'em, comin' nearer an' nearer, till 
the men run headlong fur their boat, 
shakin' cold, they wuz so scared. 

I heerd one on 'em say, ten year arter, 
that that wuz the only time in all his life 
his hair ever stood on end. 

But nobody round here never dug than 



112 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

They never even probed thar. They never 
tried the min'rul rod thar nuther, ez they 
did sometimes in other spots. Ev'rybody 
roun' this ere part o' the Islan' knowed 
better. The treasure buried thar wuz en- 
chanted treasure. Nobody meddles with 
enchanted treasure that knows what en- 
chanted treasure is. 

"What made it enchanted?" 

That fifth man wuz a pris'ner they'd 
taken frum some ship they'd run down, 
robbed, an' destroyed with the rest on the 
crew. They'd got ready to come ashore 
to bury treasure, an' they ordered him to 
go long with 'em to help do it. He went, 
doin' his part o' the work jist ez ef he wui" 
one o' the gang. 

They go ashore, mek up their minds 
'bout the spot, take their ranges so they 
kin come back to the spot when they want 
to, an' then begin to dig. When the hole 
is dug deep enough, they set the treasure 



Enchanted Treasure. - 113 

into the hole, an' all stan' in thar aroun' it. 
The leader o' the gang tells the pris'ner 
that he's got to stay by that ere treasure 
an' guard it, so nobody kin ever git it but 
them. 

They mek him sw'ar with some kind o' 
an oath that he will. Then they mek way 
with him, an' put his body over the 
treasure. 

That's why we couldn't mek out no more 
'an four men goin' back when five come 
ashore. Them four men murdered the 
fifth one, an' in so doin' enchanted the 
treasure. 

It wuz sealed in human blood, an' the 
devil himself wuz thar in full charge. An' 
that's why thunder an' lightnin' comes, an' 
spectres is seen, an' the treasure sinks 
lower an' lower, an' the hole caves, when 
people hev tried to dig up enchanted 
treasure. An' that's why, too, so little 
buried treasure hez ever been found, 'cause 



1 14 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

pirates mos' al'ays enchant it, an' some- 
times enchant it double. They murder 
their pris'ners, an' bury 'em, knife in hand, 
settin' on the treasure to guard it. 




THE MONEY SHIP 



Seventy years ago two boys, one seven 
years old and the other twelve, made a trip 
with their father up the Great South Bay. 
They had been promised that when it be- 
came necessary to land and mend the nets, 
they might run across the Beach to the 
ocean. 

So, one afternoon when the nets were 
spread, away the boys scampered, dragging 
their outstretched hands through the tall 
grass. But coming upon a damp spot of 
meadow when a third of the way over, they 
were obliged to turn their course. In doing 
so, they chanced to look behind them, and 
seeing how far they were from the boat 
and how small it appeared, they were 



1 16 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

afraid, and had half a mind to turn back. 
But the younger lad caught sight of the 
large, leafy stalks of a great rose mallow, 
a few steps ahead, spreading the broad 
petals of its passionate flower out to the 
sun and the breeze. 

" See them big flowers," he said, to his 
brother. 

Forgetting their fear, both ran to the 
spot, plucked a handful, and continued their 
way to the ocean. 

" They ain't got any smell," said the 
older, " but they're a pretty color." 

" Let's get a lot when we come back, and 
take 'em home," suggested the younger. 

But the showy flowers, deprived of the 
abundant moisture which their roots con- 
tinually send up, soon wilted and lost their 
fresh, tropical beauty. Surprised and dis- 
appointed at this, the lads threw them 
down and quickened their steps. So anx- 
ious were they to get across, that the Beach 
seemed much wider than they had ever 
imagined. At last they reached the ridge 



The Money Ship. 1 1 7 

of hills that lie on the inner side of the 
surf strand, shutting out all view of the 
ocean, and toiled to the top. The hills 
seemed ver}^ steep and high to them, for in 
all their lives the}' had never been away 
from the low and level south side of the 
Island. 

Reaching the top, that far and mighty 
prospect of the great deep burst upon 
them. It was a sight they had expected 
to see, but a sight of whose accompanying 
grandeur they had not formed the least 
conception. They stood silent, each for 
the time unconscious of the other, while 
the feeling which comes in the presence of 
the sublime surged up within their minds. 

Young hearts, though, do not give them- 
selves up long to such emotions, and wear 
their freshness out with pondering, as older 
people do. With these boys, the spell was 
brief; but during it the great sea had 
breathed its infinite benediction upon them, 
arousing within them feelings unstirred 
before. The usual traits of boyhood, how- 



1 1 8 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

ever, soon asserted themselves, and the 
boys ran down the slope and began to 
gather shells and skim them into the surf. 
They did not, though, whirl away every 
shell, but, now and then, thrust a pretty 
one into their pockets. And with the 
shells they often saved smooth white stones 
that had been bathed and polished by the 
sea. 

Tiring of this play, they turned to mak- 
ing marks and figures, and writing their 
names in the wet sand. Then they threw 
themselves down and dug holes in the wet 
sand with '' skimmauge " shells, and banked 
the sand up over their feet and hands. 

" I wonder where that ship's going and 
how far away she is ?" said the younger 
lad. 

"Oh, fifty miles — for you can't see any- 
thing but her sails, and only a little of 
them," answered the other. 

Then the younger asked if that wasn't 
the end of the world where the sky went 
down into the ocean. And watching the 



The Money Ship. 119 

low clouds that floated along the distant 
horizon, he fancied that they were going 
off to the end of the world. 

" May be," he spoke, " they're going 
after rain — clouds have some place where 
they keep their rain. How slow they're 
going I When they get the rain, they'll 
hurry back. Why, then they almost fly. 
Ain't you seen 'em fly on a stormy day 




when they're low aown, and you could 
almost see through 'em ? I guess they 
hurry to scatter the rain over more 
ground." 

The elder brother paid no heed to these 
fancies, but began to roll his trousers up 



I20 Leo^ends of Fire Island Beach. 

above his knees as high as he could pull 
them. The younger quickly did the same, 
for there were no shoes and stockings to 
be removed, as bay-men's boys, in those 
days, went barefooted in summer time. 

Then they played along the strand, run- 
ning down as the waves withdrew from the 
shore, and as one broke again, and reached 
up rapidly with its liquid hands, they would 
run from it. At length, a wave stretched 
its foamy arms farther up, and caught them 
ankle deep. The charm of playing with 
the watery being was broken, and now they 
waded down, standing knee-deep to feel 
themselves settle as the undertow scurried 
past them with its freight of sand. At 
last, a larger wave came unawares, and wet 
the elder brother's trousers, changing 
quickly the current of his thoughts. 

"Come," said he, '' father told us not to 
stay over here long. We must hurry right 
back." 

They ran westward to a low spot be- 
tween the hills, and turned through this 



The Money Ship. 121 

pass. As they were following the winding 
around the edge of a hill, suddenly the 
older brother grasped the younger's arm, 
and stopped short before a spot where no 
grass, grew — a slight hollow swept out by 
the winds. 

"See them bones ! " he exclaimed. 
" They're men's bones. There's a hand — 




and over there's a skull. See it rock ! See 
it! I'm afraid. Let's run. " 

Away they ran in their fright, coming out 
of breath to their father, and telling him 
with much gasping what they had seen. 

" Well," he replied,'' before we get under- 
way for home this afternoon, I'll go with 
you and see what it was. Let me think. 



12 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

This is near the Old House. It's easy 
enough to account for the bones over 
there; but the skull's rocking — I guess 
you imagined that." 

" No, sir, father, I saw it go just like 
this — first one side and then the other," re- 
plied the elder son, as he suggested the 
rocking by the motion of his hands. 

"The skull don't rock now," said the 
father, when they reached the spot in the 
afternoon. He picked up the skull, and 
looking in, saw that a meadow mouse had 
built its nest there. 

" Yes, boys, I guess you were right. I've 
no doubt now it did rock." 

And looking again at the skull, he saw 
that there were double teeth all around on 
each jaw. A horror ran through him at 
the thought. He cast the skull away, and 
turned to leave the spot, taking his boys by 
the hand. Half-way to the boat he spoke, 
saying: " That was a pirate's skull and 
them was pirates' bones. I heard when we 



The Money Ship. 123 

first moved up to this part :^ the Island 
something about pirates being buried 
over on the Beach. This must be the 
place. I never inquired into the partic'- 
lars. I don't like such things, and don't 
want to know 'bout 'em. If you do, wait 
till you get older, and then inquire into it. 
It's bad for you to know such things now." 
The incident of coming upon the moving 
skull made so profound an impression upon 
the elder lad that his curiosity got the 
better of him, and in less than tw^o days 
after reaching home, he had found some- 
one who knew about what actually had 
taken place where the scattered bones lay, 
and who, moreover, directed him for fuller 
information to old Captain Terry. It was 
several years, though, before the lad really 
set about further inquiry, there being cir- 
cumstances which wrought seriously against 
it. In the first place, Captain Terry lived 
several miles distant, and had the lad 
walked up to see him, there was the pos- 
sibility of his being away from home, or it 



124 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

at home, too busy to answer the questions 
of an inquisitive boy. A walk of ten miles 
to Captain Terry's and back would deter 
most boys of their curiosity. Then, too, 
the walk demanded no little courage of a 
boy who must go alone, or at best, with 
some companion of his own age ; and 
should they be detained, causing a return 
after dark, there were to be passed one or 
two places along the road of such repute 
that a boy underwent an ordeal in his own 
mind in parsing them, even in broad day- 
light. 

Clam-Hollow, deep, damp, and dismal, the 
narrow, crooked road, wooded closely by 
tall and sombre pines, all interwoven with 
their thick underbrush, was the scene of 
many a marvelous happening, which neigh- 
borhood talk attributed to that locality; 
while Brewster's brook^ near which the 
slave murdered his oppressive master, exer- 
cised a still stronger influence of fear and 
horror over the mind of every boy who had 
ever been past it. 



The Money Ship. 125 

But when the youth had grown towards 
manhood, and had forgotten the foohsh 
fears and apprehensions of boyhood, when 
he was doing what he could to make his 
way in Hfe — sometimes a laborer on farms, 
sometimes a boatman on the Bay — he 
heard, at casual times and places, so many 
allusions and fragmentary accounts of the 
buccaneers whose bodies lay buried west- 
ward of the Old House, that he was led to 
make full inquiry, and to get at the truth 
as near as might be. Not only was old 
Captain Terry's recital heard, but all in- 
formation that threw any light upon the 
tragedy was gleaned and treasured, and 
when an old man he related the following: 

Very early in the present century, a ship 
hove to off Montauk, and set ashore a man. 

She had, doubtless, made her landfall 
near the Inlet, had skirted the coast east- 
ward, attracting no attention whatever — 
unlike in this respect the ship that the two 
brothers who went on the Beach " horse- 
footing " that June Sunday saw anchor 



126 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

close in, send her yawl ashore, and 
bury treasure, spilling human blood upon 
it in the act. 

When the landing was made the ship 
stood out to sea and made long tacks off 
and on, gradually working westward along 
the coast. 

The sailor set ashore was a man of tall 
and powerful frame. He brought appar- 
ently nothing ashore with him, and no 
sooner had he gained the dry strand than 
he set out at a brisk pace, making his way 
westward over the narrow and rocky pen- 
insula. When half the distance to 
Napeague Beach, he stopped near a large 
rock and made certain observations. This 
done, he signalled to the ship, and was an- 
swered by the clewing up of the foresail. 
Then he recommenced his walk towards 
the village of Amagansette. It was dusk 
when he reached that village, and his first 
move was to find where he could spend the 
night. His applications for lodgings were 
repeatedly refused by the inhabitants, and 



The Money Ship. 127 

that evening and for a week thereafter, the 
most prominent topic of village talk and 
conjecture was the stranger who had 
sought lodgings at so many doors. 

Where he passed the night is not known. 
But the next day, at East Hampton and 
at South Hampton, the question was fre- 
quently asked, " Did you see the stranger 
that went through the village this morn- 
ing?" 

Perhaps no ordinary event in those days 
would have attracted more attention at 
these villages than the appearance and dis- 
appearance of an unknown man. Who he 
was, what his errand might be, where he 
came from, and whither he went, were mat- 
ters of speculation for days; and in this 
instance there was an additional incentive 
to curiosity, for the stranger's dress showed 
him to be a sailor, his manner was rough, 
his face was cruel in expression, and he 
held no further word of conversation than 
was barely necessary to supply his wants. 

It is said that after leaving these villages 



128 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

the stranger was seen making observations 
on the coast somewhere below Ketchabon- 
ack. Of his journey westward, nothing 
more is known, until he was passing over 
that long, sandy, and solitary tract of road 
which lies between Forge River and The 
Mills. Here he stopped, and made some 
inquiry of Mr.. Payne, an old soldier of the 
Revolution. 

When the stranger departed, the family 
at once asked, " Who was he ? " 

The reply made by old Mr. Payne was 
significant. "That I can't tell; but one 
thing I can — whoever he is, he has been in 
human slaughter." 

At one of those villages where the Great 
South Bay broadens to a width of four or 
five miles, this man was set across to the 
Beach. To some of the residents there- 
about he was known, and so, moreover, 
was the fact that, for a long period, he had 
been away from home — -piloting^ it was re- 
ported. His wife and also his daughter, a 
young woman of defiant mien, saucy speech, 



The Money Ship. 129 

and, it is said, of unwholesome reputation, 
dwelt alone upon the Beach, at what from 
early colonial days had been called the Old 
House, but which, since the tragedy of 
that awful night, has more frequently borne 
the name of the iniquitous family. 

For two days the ship had been sailing 
east and west, standing off and on shore, 
awaiting intelligence from him. He saw 
her the morning he landed on the Beach, 
but could not signal, as the man who set 
him across did not return at once. Then, 
too, after he had gone, two vessels loaded 
for New York passed within an hour and a 
half of each other, on their way to Fire 
Island. Late in the afternoon — the earli- 
est moment he deemed safe — he signalled 
to the ship that he had reached the spot 
where all had agreed to land, that circum- 
stances and surroundings were opportune 
for their purpose, and to hold in position 
as best possible till darkness settled. 

All, however, was not favorable. There 
were indications of an approaching storm 



130 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

— indications that portended its sudden 
approach. The swell on shore, too, was 
rising and rolhng in with stronger volume. 
They were in a bad position, and well they 
knew it. There was not sea-room enough, 
with a south-easterly storm, in that angle of 
the coast. But what cared that reckless 
crew now about their ship, other than she 
must not go ashore within sight or reach 
of where they proposed to land. 

Night came, and a fire flamed up on the 
shore, built low down near the tide mark, 
that the hills might hide all view of it from 
people upon the main-land. It was the 
signal when to leave ship and where to 
come ashore. According to the under- 
standing on ship-board off Montauk, the 
fire was to be set three rods westward of 
the best spot of beach to land, within half 
a mile of the Old House. 

There was hurry on ship-board. Time 
pressed, for the edges of the storm were 
upon them. Two of the ship's yawls were 
lowered, made fast alongside, and into 



The Money Ship. 131 

these were passed canvas bags, containing 
coin and, it is supposed, other valuables. 
Each member of the crew had secured in 
some manner upon his person his own 
share of the results of their hazardous and 
wicked doings. When the yawls were 
ready, the crew made efforts to scuttle the 
ship, so that she might sink during the 
night. But, doubtless owing to the haste 
imposed by the coming storm, these efforts 
did not promise success; and fearing that 
the vessel, when abandoned, would be 
driven directly ashore, orders were given 
to take in part of the sail, leaving in trim 
just spread of canvas enough to keep the 
ship in the wind. Then, heading her sea- 
ward and lashing the helm to windward, 
the buccaneers embarked in the yawls and 
pulled towards shore — seventeen men in 
all, abandoning a life of robbery and mur- 
der, but bringing with them the booty such 
a life had secured. 

Nearing the shore, they saw by the fire- 
light the form of their accomplice. No 



132 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

other man was with him, and yet the forms 
of two other persons were seen in the cir- 
cle of hght which the fire radiated out into 
the dark. There was shouting to and fro 
of how to come on, and oaths and harsh 
accusations besides — why he had been so 
long, and why had he signalled them on 
when a storm was already in the rigging. 
The surf was threatening, but it was too 
late now to make any other decision. 
With strength of oar they held themselves 
in position, watching the right moment to 
take the best wave and ride in. But 
whether directions were misunderstood, or 
whether in the darkness there was miscal- 
culation, the yawls swamped upon the bar, 
throwing the seventeen buccaneers into 
the rushing surf. It was a despairing, mad 
struggle for life, with piercing cries and 
blasphemy heard above the booming of the 
waves. Two buccaneers, Tom Knight and 
Jack Sloane, gained the shore. Others 
sank soon, while yet others, quite ex- 
hausted, might have been rescued. But 



The Money Ship. 133 

treachery, calculating its chance, stepped 
in and did foul work. Then what horrible 
exertion went on all that night! What hot 
search was kept up for lifeless forms as the 
sea tossed them up! How, when discov- 
ered, were they pulled out of the edge of 
the surf, and clothing rifled! And then, to 
cover it all, their bodies were dragged to a 
hollow among the hills, and there buried. 
The storm set in before the night was half 
gone, and a wild day followed, keeping 
from the Beach any boatman that chance 
might have led that way. 

Tom Knight and Jack Sloane, not a fort- 
night thereafter, made their appearance 
upon the main shore, and spent money 
freely. They came and went, again and 
again, always spending with the same lav- 
ish hand, throwing down, it is said, a 
Spanish dollar for the most trivial pur- 
chase, and invariably refusing any change. 

Rumors that some horrid deed had been 
committed were soon in circulation, and 



134 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

conjectures of what had happened upon the 
Beach were many and various. 

A town magistrate, hearing these, began 
an inquiry. He sent constables to the 
Beach with warrants to arrest the family 
and everyone else in the house. Only the 
mother and the daughter were found. 
These were brought to the main-land, and 
half a day was spent in examination; but the 
magistrate could find no positive evidence 
that warranted further action on his part. 

On the day the mother and daughter 
were arrested, those three buccaneers — the 
pilot, Tom Knight, and Jack Sloane — 
watched from hiding-places apart in the 
hills, the coming and going of the consta- 
bles. When all possibility of detection had 
passed, they returned to the Old House. 
Each sought out his treasure whence he 
had temporarily hid it, in the bushes or in 
the sand. After hot discussion, each packed 
his gold according to his own notion, and 
the three buccaneers struggled through 



The Money Ship. 135 

the hills in separate directions to bury 
their treasure. 

Tom Knight's gold was found forty 
years after, just as he had sealed it up in 
the black pot which the Captain found, 
in that last fortunate patrol of the Beach; 
the gold of the other buccaneers lies some- 
where among those sand-hills until this 
day. 





Mj 



Immediately after the arrest, Tom 
Knight and Jack Sloane left for other 
parts, and very shortly the family broke 
up its residence on the Beach and moved 
to the Western frontier, where, it is said, 
ill-fate and disaster followed them. 

That portion of the Beach, however, 
attracted many thither. But little money 
was then in circulation. The government, 



136 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

it was well known, had coined money but a 
few years, while Spain was imagined to have 
stamped untold millions; and the hope of 
finding Spanish coin quickly sprang up 
in many a man's mind. In consequence, 
bay-men often strolled along that part of 
the coast, though most of them took good 
heed not to be there after dark. Spanish 
dollars were frequently found — one person 
picking up first and last thirty-eight of 
these. Search was even made upon the 
bar where the yawls upset. But periods 
when the sea was smooth enough to work 
were rare, and what is more, the exact spot 
was unknown. Fragments of the canvas 
bags were found, and a few coins; but 
nothing commensurate to expectation and 
the time spent in search. 

The ship remained off the coast, and as 
if guided by an insane pilot, alternately 
sailed and drifted, veering her course 
through every point of the compass from 
northeast to southeast, but working, singu- 
larly enough, all the time eastward. 



The Money Ship. 137 

Her strange behavior attracted one day 
the attention of a party of fishermen 
on the Beach opposite Smith's Point. 
Some of them proposed most ardently that 
the surf-boat be launched and the ship 
boarded. But others of them were afraid, 
and stoutly opposed any such adventure. 
And so a prize of more value than the 
catch of many seasons passed them, be- 
cause, let us say it plainly, superstition was 
stronger than reason. 

Near South Hampton the Money Ship 
went ashore. There were neither papers 
nor cargo on board which would indicate 
where she came from. A sea-merchant 
thought some of the casks that were found 
in the hold had contained Italian silks. 
Seven Spanish doubloons were found on a 
locker in the cabin, and several cutlasses 
and pistols were scattered about. The 
whole vessel was searched, but nothing 
more could be found. Two of those men, 
though, who had aided in the search went 
on board at nightfall. Suddenly, while 



T38 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

peering about, their light went out, and 
one man, frightened and deaf to pursua- 
sion, fled ashore. The other, undaunted, 
made anew his light and continued the 




search. While hunting about the cabin, he 
bethought to pry away a part of the ceil- 
ing. Upon doing so, he found a quan- 
tity of money concealed there, and as it 
dropped down from its place of lodgment. 



The Money Ship. 139 

some of the coins rolled out of the cabin- 
window into the sea. This time it was an 
honest man's treasure, and he carried 
ashore that night many a hatful. Just how 
much was thus secured could never be 
learned. Some put the amount at two 
hundred dollars, others, and by far the 
greater number, thought it many times this 
sum. One thing is certain — there were 
marked changes noticeable in the circum- 
stances of that family from that time, and 
the signs of prosperity were not only sud- 
den but lasting. 

Whence came the Money-Ship ? There 
was not even a name or commission to 
give any clew. Could she have been an 
English merchantman, which had chanced 
to be in the West Indies during the insur- 
rection in Hayti, and on board of which 
some of the French inhabitants of the 
island had sought refuge, bringing with 
them their wealth, — that when at sea, 
mutiny had arisen, the officers and passen- 



1 40 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

gers had been made way with, and theii 
wealth appropriated by the sailors ? 

Was she a Spanish pirate from the Gulf, 
with half her crew English sailors ? 

Or was she a galleon sailing from the 
Spanish main to old Spain ? 

It has always remained a mystery. 



.^7^ 




WIDOW MOLLY 



Westward of Greene's brook on the 
road to Oakdale there stands a substantia] 
country residence. You will recognize it 
in driving by, for just south, across the 
road is a lot with small spindle cedars 
growing all irregular, everywhere in fact, 
some perhaps the height of a man's waist, 
but the most not higher than his knee. 

" Poor land," you will say. Well, I be- 
lieve it is. Else why are those little wiz- 
ened cedars there ? They have grown 
there who knows how long ? They never 
get bigger, and have each the appearance, 
when you come close, of being a hundred 
years old. But the lot with them on, bends 
■ its mile of curve gradually down to the 
Great South Bay, and leaves you a broad 



Widow Molly, 



T43 



view of that body of water, very blue and 
very beautiful at times. 

A century and nine years ago, there 
stood across the road opposite this lot a 
small inn. At what time it was demolished, 
I could never learn; but I have no doubt 
some of its wrecked timbers are doing up- 
right duty to this very day, in bracing the 
partitions of the present residence. 




Sometimes the New York stage stopped 
at this inn, but its usual halting- 
place was a few miles to the west at 
Champlin's. Whenever it did stop, the 
passengers had good cheer, for the little 
inn was kept by Widow Molly— a woman 
of sunny face and hopeful disposition. 



144 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

Her eyes were large, and, you would say, a 
little too deeply placed; but their look was 
honest and as unsuspecting as the stars. She 
had broad hips of which she was a trifle 
proud, a round arm and a very pretty 
hand, a deep chest, arching high, and her 
weight must have been not more than a 
pound or two either side of one hundred 
and sixty. 

There was no end of trooping in those 
days, and many a company of horsemen 
stopped at Widow Molly's. Her slave, 
Ebo, would give the best care to the 
horses, while she entertained their riders. 
And if the troopers had time and it came 
to a game of seven-up, she could play as 
strong a hand as any one of them. The 
hours on such halts went too fast, and often 
afterwards there was hard riding to regain 
time lost lingering. But of all the riders 
who dismounted at her door, there was 
one who came alone and went alone, and 
whose visits were beginning to hint of reg- 
ularity. He came from the section about 



Widow Molly. 145 

Ronkonkoma Pond, seven miles, perhaps, 
to the northward. Whoever knew him, 
knew him as the young squire. Seven-and- 
thirty years old, prosperous, of sound judg- 
ment, he well deserved the note the office 
gave him. 

In the spring that came a century and 
nine years ago, the young squire, who had 
always a passion for cracking away at stray 
ducks that settled in the Pond, resolved to 
go gunning to the "South Side." And 
many a morning or afternoon he lay be- 
hind the cedars that grew along the shore 
of the Great South Bay, and tolled in 
ducks, by flapping over his head a piece of 
bright red flannel tied to his ramrod. On 
these gunning expeditions he always 
stopped at the inn, and finally, instead of 
carrying his firelock home, he left it in 
the keeping of Widow Molly. The hostess 
stood the gun in the corner of the front 
room. 

Whenever the young squire came, he 
found the brass upon it bright and the 



146 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

stock and barrel rubbed off with a mite of 
oil. Widow Molly did this with her own 
hands, and never made mention of it. But 
one day, when he took his gun to start for 
the shore, he gave one deep look into her 
eyes and kissed her as he passed out of the 
doorway. She watched him go across the 
lot till the curve put him out of sight, and 
then turning, closed the door. It was well 
that during the rest of that day no one 
halted at the inn desiring refreshment, for 
the genial hostess would have seemed to 
such, preoccupied. From the moment she 
turned from that wrapt watching in the 
doorway, she wandered off with the feel- 
ings of her heart whither neither guest 
nor friend could follow and intrude. 

That afternoon, when the day's gunning 
was over, the squire was met by a neigh- 
bor and summoned home to write the will 
of a dying man. He had not time so 
much as to enter the house, but gave his 
gun and four brace of ducks to Ebo, and 



Widow Molty. 147 

rode rapidly home with the neighbor who 
had come for him. 

After tea, when Judy was washing the 
dishes, Widow Mohycame into the kitchen 
with the gun, laid it down upon the table, 
and began cleaning it. This time she even 
drew the ramrod, wound a ra^ around it, 
and wiped out the barrel. When she had 
put it in perfect order, she carried it into 
the front room and stood it in its usual 
corner. 

" Law," said Judy to Ebo, as they sat in 
the kitchen by the scant light of one tallow 
dip, " what am got into missus ? 131' jou 
see how she clean dat ere gun so' ticlar 
to-night ? She am done it sivral time 
afore, but nebber so drefful 'ticlar ez to- 
night. An' the squar am no stop to-night! 
Wha' for he din't stay to tea an' spen' 
ebnin' wi' missus ? Missus am dispinted; 
drefful so. 

" We'se goin' to lose Missus, dat am sure, 
cause I'se kin feel it. Missus been kinde 
way off, thinkin'- an' thinkin' to herself all 



148 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

long back. Yes, we'se goin' to lose 
Missus, an' whar's poor ol' Judy goin' in 
dese ere war times ?— Ebo, you fas' asleep 
dar ? Git off to yer own quarters." 



H' 



^. < 




In that spring, a century and nine years 
ago, a schooner, manned by outlaws prin- 
cipally from the Connecticut shore, but 
some, be it said, from the south side of the 
Island, made her appearance in the Bay. 
She would come in Fire Island Inlet, 



Widow Molly. 149 

course eastward up the Bay, rob- 
bing every vessel within reach ; and in 
the spirit of pure devilment, the crevv' 
would destroy or cut adrift every boat they 
robbed, set their owners ashore on the 
Beach at whatever point most convenient, 
and then slip out of the inlet near the 
Manor of St. George, and be gone. 

One or two visits of this sort put bay- 
men upon their guard, and when the 
stranger hove in sight, it was crack on all 
sail, and make for shallow water or disap- 
pear up some creek or river. 

Finding their opportunities of robbing 
upon the Bay at an end, the outlaws de- 
termined to take to land. The scattered 
residents, expecting it would come to this, 
had organized a sort of company who 
should be ready at the briefest notice to 
repel any such attempts. 

Again the schooner appeared in the Bay^ 
sailed eastward, and anchored off the 
mouth of Great River. The news of her 
approach spread rapidly, and a part of the 



150 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

company quickly gathered and took a con- 
cealed place behind a bunch of cedars on 
the shore to watch any movements that 
might be made from the schooner. After 
sunset they saw a boat lowered and 
manned. 

At the foot of the lot on which the 
cedars now grow there was a landing-place. 
The men on shore saw the yawl push out 
from the schooner and head towards the 
landing. 

They watched ten minutes, and the yawl 
did not change its course. 

" Some man in that yawl knows well 
enough where this landing-place is, an' 
they're coming to it, you can bet your last 
guinea," remarked Jim Avery. " My ad- 
vice is to git away from here quick, an' 
take to the lime-kiln." 

*' Wait a few minutes first, to make sure 
they're comin'," suggested someone. 

They watched five minutes longer, and 
then, keeping a thick bunch of cedars 
directly in range of the boat, they ran half- 



Widow Molly. 151 

bent to the lime-kiln and shell-heap at the 
landing, and there concealing themselves, 
set one of their number to watch the 
movements of the boat. 

In the lime-kiln they began to discuss a 
plan of action. 

" Load the big musket with buckshot and 
give that to 'em first, if they undertake to 
land," was the first proposition. 

" Put in a rippin' good charge. Four 
fingers of powder, and ram it hard" — added 
Jim Avery. 

The steel ramrod sent out its cling as 
the wad was pounded down. 

" Oh, the devil ! Put in more buckshot 
than that if you want 'em to know we 
mean it. There ! " continued Jim, as he 
clapped his hand over the bore and let a 
handful of buckshot guzzle down upon 
the first charge, "that'll plug 'em." 

After the big gun was loaded the men 
began to load their own guns, their excite- 
ment increasing and the discussion grow- 
ing loud enough to be heard outside the 



152 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

kiln. At length, the natural leader of 
the party checked it, and fixed a plan of 
action. 

" The thing to do," he said, " is this: hail 
'em when they get near the shore, an' if 
they don't hold up, rip into 'em a volley 
from the big gun, an' hold our other fire- 
locks in resarve." 

But a question at once arose who should 
fire the big musket. It required a stout 
man to hold the huge firearm out, and the 
smallest man of the group, in the haste of 
gathering, had caught it up in a neighbor's 
house. 

'' I swar I won't fire it with such a load 
as that in," he said; "and I can't fire it 
anyway without a rest." 

" You take her, then," said the leader to 
one who stood beside him. 

" Not a bit of it. I ain't agoin' to fire 
nobody else's gun but my own." 

" They're not more'n three gun-shots 
off," spoke the sentinel, husking the tones 
of his voice; " settle upon suthin' darn 



Widow Molly. 



153 



quick, ur we'll hev a han'-to-han' fight here 
on the shore." 

"You're the boy, Jim; you fire it," said 
the leader, clapping a negro who stood near 
him, on the shoulder. 

Jim took the gun. 




It was now dusk. The party slipped out 
from behind the shell-heap, and the leader 
shouted, " Back water there an' stop, or 
I'll fire." 

No reply was made, but he caught 
the words, " Pull, pull\ " and the quicker 
dip of the oars told that the rowers 
heeded. 



154 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

"Another yard and I'll fire." 

No word of reply — but, spoken loud and 
with vengeance, " Pull, damn you,/?///." 

" Fire, Jim; " and the huge musket thun- 
dered out her volley. 

A shriek from one poor devil, the noise 
of others falling over in the boat, and the 
striking of oars followed. With oaths and 
confusion, the outlaws turned their boat 
and pulled back. 

Black Jim stood stiff in the tracks where 
he had fired, but the big musket lay upon 
the ground — the recoil had broken his 
collar-bone. 

In the morning the schooner was gone. 
Week after week went by, and the scat- 
tered inhabitants continually expected 
some descent of the outlaws to take ven- 
geance for their repulse. Jim's collar-bone 
was well knit together, and yet there had 
been no further molestation. 

' I guess we fixed 'em. They don't 
seem to want to come anymore," remarked 
one of the party to a neighbor. 



Wido7v Molly. 155 

More than six weeks had passed since 
that one charge of buckshot repulsed the 
outlaws, and June was half gone. The 
Bay's rest spell was come — the time when, 
day after day, its surface is calm, and the 
air above it quivers — the time when 
the Beach goes off to its farthest limit and 
melts into islands with air inlets between 
them. 

On one of those quiet, dreamy days in 
June, when all thought of alarm is farthest 
from one, the identical long-boat which 
barely two months before had turned back 
with its wounded, was crossing the Bay, 
and making, too, directly for the landing 
by the lime-kiln and shell-heap. The 
schooner this time lay outside the Beach, 
and the outlaws had made a portage ovet 
with their long-boat. Again someone in 
that boat knew there was a landing near 
the shell-heap. 

They rowed up till the boat touched the 
sand, but before all landed, two sailors 
jumped ashore and went around the shell- 



156 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

heap and into the kiln to discover whether 
any body of men was lying in wait there. 
Upon their return, the boat was secured, 
and the oars were put in position for quick 
launching. Then, adjusting slashed black 
bands across their faces, the outlaws took 
their way up across the lot, making straight 
for the inn on the north side of the old coun- 
try road. A dozen rods, perhaps, from the 
shore, there sprang up what always springs 
up when any group of sailors take to land 
—what in general may be called rough 
fooling. It was started by Nate Crosby, 
the most irrepressible devil of the whole 
crew, throwing his leg between those of 
the sailor who walked beside him, and 
sending him sprawling to the ground, his 
face tearing into one of the stunted cedars. 
As he rose, he plucked the cedar up, and 
began lashing Nate about the neck and 
face, and not only did he deal blows at 
Nate, but also upon those who laughed 
at the way Nate had thrown him. Where- 
upon some five or six others uprooted 



Widow Molly. 157 

cedars and fell to cracking back, and then 
at each other. 

" What in thunder are you thinking of, 
you devil's birds?" said the leader, step- 
ping back among them. ''Quit this fool- 
ing. We're darn near in sight of the inn, 
and instead of keeping your eyes skinned 
for just what some of us got the last time 
we tried this thing, you've taken to rollick- 
ing. Spread out, spread out; don't bunch 
up, if you've got any wit whatever. Nate, 
cast away that cedar; cast it away, and 
come with me to the head of the gang," 

They reached the inn and filed into the 
front room. There was no one at home 
but Widow Molly and Judy, and both were 
at work in the kitchen. The noise and 
boisterous talk brought Widow Molly to 
the room in an instant, and Judy, taking 
one peep, scrambled down cellar and hid 
herself in a bin. 

" Ah ! Dame Molly," said the leader 
very affably, as she entered, " a surprise to 
you! What of cheer can ye make us ?" 



158 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

" Mek it damn quick, too," broke in a 
rough voice. 

" Hold your jaw, you ill-trained cur," 
spoke the leader, smiting the upstart flat- 
handed on the mouth. 

Such words, the black bands with fierce 
eyes looking through, the knives and 
pistols thrust in their belts, told Widow 
Molly that the gang of outlaws had landed 
and were in her house. The thought that 
she was alone came swift, and she stood a 
moment stricken and dazed. But quite as 
suddenly she regained her self-possession, 
stepped past them into an adjoining room, 
reached a decanter and glasses, and setting 
these before them, bade them drink their 
pleasure. 

" More, more,'' thundered one outlaw, 
hammering on the table with the butt of 
his pistol. 

She brought another decanter and 
glasses. The two decanters were emptied, 
refilled, and emptied again before the out- 
laws gave heed to anything else. 



Legends of Fire Island Beach. 159 

" And now, Dame Molly, thou hast well 
slaked our thirst, can'st thou not bring 
something to stay our stomachs," said the 
leader. 

"An' bring thy silver spoons, too," said 
another of the company, who, turning 
towards her, chucked her under the chin. 

Her eyes flashed with resentment at the 
indignity, and swifty she whirled a stinging 
slap in the intruder's face. 

A roar of laughter filled the room, and 
derisively they cried, " Try it ag'in, now, 
will ye ? Try it ag'in." 

Widow Molly's heart beat hard. Her 
breath was catchy, and with her capacious 
lungs that was a new experience. A way 
of escape was her first thought. Should 
she slip out of the kitchen door, run a mile 
to the nearest neighbor, and give the 
alarm ? 

She found no chance to do it, for three 
of the outlaws followed her into the pantry 
and then into the kitchen. Nothing was 
left but to put on the bravest appearance, 



i6o Widow Molly. 

and she had already done that. Had they 
been soldiers with muskets, their presence 
would not have affected her as it did. She 
was used to muskets. But the dirks, 
sheath-knives, and horse-pistols that filled 
their belts gave her a tremor. 

Everything eatable the inn afforded she 
set before them, and although there was 
considerable of it, it was not sufficient to 
fill them all. During the whole while, 
Widow Molly waited on the ravenous 
crowd, and when the eating came to an 
end, the leader said, "And now. Dame 
Molly, produce thy purse and what of gold 
thou hast besides." She drew forth her 
purse and emptied it upon the table. A 
sailor started towards the table and made a 
grab, but he was caught by the leader, and 
shoved back against the wall with a thud. 

*' Four pound ten," said the leader, count- 
ing it; "and that's all ye have about. Dame 
Molly ? Search the house from garret to 
cellar. Hold — two stay in the room with 
our landlady." 



VVidoiv Molly. i6i 

Forth they burst into all parts of the 
house, striding up stairs, kicking open 
doors instead of unlatching them. Clatter 
and din came from every room. Beds 
were upturned, drawers ransacked and the 
contents turned upon the floor, looked 
over, and then kicked into corners to make 
room for other examinations. Closets were 
rummaged, feather-beds and pillows thrown 
upon the floor, felt over carefully, and then 
as carefully trodden over, to make sure 
nothing was concealed therein. 

" Look for loose bricks in the fireplaces. 
See if the hearth-stones are tight down," 
shouted the leader, from the head of the 
stairs. 

And with these words, Widow Molly 
heard Judy's cries from the cellar implor- 
ing mercy from the outlaw who was hust- 
ling her about and demanding where the 
silver was. 

** Oh, please, sah, lem me go. Don't. 
Oh! oh! don't." 



i62 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

" No, sah; no, sah; true es I lib, missus 
ain't got no silber." 

"Oh, dear, hab marcy, please, sah; do 

hab marcy. Oh, oh ! you break my 

poor ol* arm." 

" Fall on yer knees. Stop your beggin' 
for mercy." 

" Yes, sah; yes^ sah. Hab a little marcy. 
Oh! ." 

" Clasp yer hands above yer head. Keep 
'em up there." 

"Oh, sah, oh! " 

" Stop yer beggin'. Another whimper 
and I'll pull. Now, you tell quick, where 
the silver is, or I'll blow your old black 
head into mince-meat." 

Judy, shaking with fear, told him. 

The outlaw came up out of the cellar, 
and rummaged where Judy had said. 
Securing several small pieces of silver- 
ware, he came back into the front room. 
Then for the first time he noticed the gun, 
with its bright mountings, which stood in 



Widow Molly. 



163 



the corner, and walking towards it, he re- 
marked, " That gun's mine." 

" No," repUed Widow Molly, her affec- 
tion rising as she thought of him to whom 
the gun belonged. " You can have any- 
thing else. That's a friend's gun." 




He took it, and Widow Molly, who had 
already stepped across the room, seized the 
gun, and with one strong, quick twist, 
wrested it from him. Setting it back in 
the corner, she replied, " That you can't 
have as long as I can defend it." 

One of the outlaws who had been keep- 
ing her prisoner now tried the same game. 



164 Le^Q;ends of Fire Island Beach. 

All the woman's soul again stirred within 
her. She wrested the gun from him, but 
the struggle was hard and long. 

''I tell you," she said, as she fell back 
with the gun in her possession — " I tell 
you," she repeated between breaths, 
"that's a friend's gun, and I'll defend it. 
You can't have it." 

Then with the gun in her hand she 
walked directly across the room into an 
adjoining one, and set the gun behind the 
door. 

In the meantime the leader passed 
from room to room to see what valua- 
bles had been found. The outlaws put 
into their pockets a few nondescript arti- 
cles that struck their fancy, but nothing 
of any great value, and they had searched 
through everything. For some time there 
had been cursing at their want of luck, but 
now that it had become disappointment, 
their blasphemy was frightful. The whole 
gang came tramping down the stairs, 
swearing and threatening in ugly mood, 



Widow Molly. 165 

and filed into the front room. Widow 
Molly, who stood at the farthest side, grew 
deathly white. 

They will now, thought she, resort to 
some desperate scheme. She took a 
long, deep breath, and then caught it to 
stop the flutter of her bosom. ''And no 
one comes! " she almost said aloud in her 
emotion. 

All through the time of their ransacking, 
she had felt that they would be surprised 
in their robbery by a company of the 
townsmen, or that, perchance, some body 
of horsemen would ride up. Now that 
hope was wholly gone. 

But shouts came from two outlaws in the 
garret who had been reaching down behind 
the rafters. 

''Gold— gold!" they shouted. "We've 
found it. We ain't cleaii dished." 

The outlaws in the front room surged 
into the hall, and yelled as the finders came 
jumping down-stairs. The group at the 
foot of the stairs stood back to give pas- 



1 66 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

sage, and the finders rushed through into 
the front room, followed eagerly by the 
crowd. 

Nate Crosby threw upon the table a 
stout, heavily-filled stocking, drew his 
sheath-knife, severed the stocking just 
below where it was tied, and poured the 
contents out upon the table, 

"Stand back," said the leader, "whilst I 
count and divide." 

The group very willingly stood back, 
formed a circle about the table, and 
grinned and chuckled as the coins were 
counted. 

" One hundred and eighty pounds, all 
told." 

The leader counted out a pile to each 
man, setting up the coins as he did so. 
And when this was done, he handed each 
man his pile. " The other booty," he said, 
"goes into the common lot." 

"And now, my rovers," continued the 
leader, " no more marauding for this day. 
Back to our boat, forthwith." 



lVido7u Molly. 167 

"Good-day, Dame Molly. Your hospi- 
tality has been right well enjoyed; " and 
hurrying out of the house, the outlaws 
struck into a run for the landing. 

Widow Molly sank into a chair, and let 
her arms fall beside her in an exhausted 
way. After a brief space she summoned 
energy sufficient to go to the window and 
assure herself that they were not returning. 
She was just in time to see them disappear 
below the curve of the cedar lot. One out- 
law at the rear, she noticed, carried a gun. 
She turned swiftly and went into the ad- 
joining room to see whether the gun had 
been taken from behind the door. It was 
gone. Then Widow Molly buried her face 
in her hands and cried bitterly. 

"Devil Dan'l showed that gang the way, 
you may be sartin'. Who else 'ud know 
the place and Widow Molly's name?" was 
the common remark from Swan River to 
Penataquit. 

The feeling against the outlaws was in- 



1 68 Legends of Fh'e Island Beach. 

tense, and a company of men from five 
leagues along the South Road was organ- 
ized to be ready at courier's summons. 

For a few days the schooner's masts 
were seen outside the Beach, coursing one 
day westward, and the next eastward — lin- 
gering for some purpose off the coast. 

Another descent was expected, and the 
inhabitants conjectured it would be made 
during the night. Squads of five or six 
men patrolled their neighborhoods, with 
horses ready to summon other squads in 
any emergency. 

On the fourth night, the scattered guard- 
groups noticed, early in the evening, the 
low beat of the surf upon the Beach. In 
the course of the night it grew stronger, 
and the pounding of each huge breaker 
could be distinctly told. 

In those days every man was a weather- 
prophet, and every man awake that night 
said, " There's a big storm off at sea, and 
we'll likely get it here." 

The next day broke with a dull sky and a 



Wido7v Molly. 169 

raw east wind that betokened the coming 
of the storm. The wind rose as the day 
progressed, and mid-afternoon a few drops 
of rain — the harbingers of the storm — 
showed themselves upon the window-panes. 
At that very hour, the schooner, low-reefed, 
was seen close in under the Beach, scud- 
ding westward. It was evident to those 
who saw her that she was making for some 
near harbor. 

The night came wild and wet. The 
wind blew great rushing sweeps from the 
south-east, crowding the water up into the 
western part of the Bay, forcing it up 
creeks and over meadows. Between mid- 
night and morning, the wind suddenly 
shifted into the west, like the banging of a 
door, and blew with just as great fury. 
The whole black area of clouds and rain 
bore back from the west. The gulls alone 
found life in it. 

In three hours the wind wore itself out, 
but there followed a thick morning, with the 
Bay and the sky all one wet blend of gray. 



1 70 Legends of Fh'e Island Beach. 

At noon the dampness lifted, and the 
Beach showed itself. 

Keen eyes were not long in discerning, 
as they scanned it, two masts and a hull, 
heeled over. The schooner was ashore — 
inside the Beach at the Point of Woods. 

Scudding west the afternoon before, and 
now ashore at the Point of Woods and 
heeled over! What was the inference 
from the two things ? Plainly to every in- 
habitant, that the outlaws had run the 
schooner into Fire Island for a harbor, and 
when the wind made that sudden shift, the 
vessel had fouled anchor or parted chain 
and had gone ashore. 

That afternoon there was brisk riding to 
summon the squads of men. 
. " Now's our chance, if ever. They'll 
hang on there till high tide 'bout midnight, 
an' try to get 'er off. But they won't find 
as much water piled up there agin at high 
tide as they went ashore in. An' to-mor- 
row, after workin' an' tuggin' half the 
night to no purpose, they'll conclude to 



Widow Molly. 171 

abandon her," were the rousing words of a 
man who gathered a small squad, at Islip 
within half an hour after the word of sum- 
mons came. 

By understanding, the place of rendez- 
vous was the old tavern still standing at 
Blue Point, where the road running south 
makes a sharp angle and bends to the 
west. 

Two squads came from the west — twelve 
men. They halted at Widow Molly's, and 
rested a short time in that front room. 
They talked of the ransacking and robbery 
of the house, and nothing else; boasted of 
the vengeance they would take out of those 
"hell-birds;" drank two or three times 
around, and then set out for Blue Point, 
assuring the hostess that they would re- 
cover her gold. 

Widow Molly made no reply to this, but 
to Captain Ben of the Penataquit squad, 
with whom she walked to the door, she 
said quietly, '* Bring back, if nothing else, 
a gun with brass mountings, which they 



172 Legends of Fire lsla7id Beach. 

took the last thing without my knowing it. 
It must be on board somewhere." 

A squad came up from Patchogue, and 
when those from the west arrived at the 
tavern, there were twenty-six men ready 
for the enterprise. 

Three hours passed in discussing plans 
and selecting a leader. It could not have 
been done in less time. Every man had 
his ideas, and every man had to be heard. 
And so the company gradually broke up 
into groups. One knot of men stood out- 
side the tavern door, a group of five or six 
were out by the barn, a number walked 
towards the shore to see just the position 
the schooner lay in, thinking that a sight of 
her from Blue Point would suggest the best 
move to make. When those who walked 
towards the shore came back, they sug- 
gested that all go into the tavern and 
either all agree upon some plan or give the 
affair up and go home. In all the discus- 
sion two or three self-contained men had 
kept quiet, knowing evidently that there 



Widow Molly. 173 

must be just so much futile talk, and that 
when this had become tiresome, the com- 
pany would adopt any good plan. 

Among those who had said very little 
was Captain Ben of Penataquit. A little 
vexed, he suddenly stepped into a chair 
and spoke: " This talk can go on till 
Doomsday, but it won't accomplish any- 
thing. Now, I know, there has been three 
or four plans stated; but I propose this as 
the surest one, though it'll take longer an' 
be harder on us. After dark, muffle our 
oars, an' row across the Bay to Long Cove. 
Land there, draw our boats up an' cover 
'em with sea-weed. At midnight start west 
along the surf-shore, an' when we get op- 
posite to where the schooner is ashore, 
cross the Beach, an' surprise the crew at 
daybreak. That's the main plan. All the 
rest'll have to be decided accordin' to what 
turns up." 

This plan met a hearty reception; and 
someone forthwith proposed that Captain 



174 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

Ben be made leader, which was just as 
heartily agreed to. 

It was four miles across to Long Cove, 
and nearly seven miles down the Beach to 
where the schooner lay. They took with 
them such provisions as could be secured, 
and as soon as twilight had wholly faded, 
pulled across the Bay. It was past nine 
o'clock when they made the start, for the 
days were then at their longest. 

They struck the Beach a little east of 
Long Cove, but followed it up, entered the 
Cove, and drew their boats up. 

" We've got plenty o' time," said Captain 
Ben, " an' we'd better take a bite o' what 
we've got afore we start. There's no 
knowin' when we'll get the next chance." 

Standing around the boats or sitting on 
the gunwales, the men ate and drank and 
talked. Shortly after midnight they shoul- 
dered their arms, crossed the Beach, and 
began the march westward along the surf 
shore. 

The inner side of the Beach is covered 



JVidoiv Molly. 



175 



with marshes and meadows, indented most 
irregularly by the Bay. But along the 
ocean side there is a smooth piece of 
strand, six or eight rods wide, and flanked 
all along by steep sand-hills, which some- 
times rise thirty feet high. Along this 




piece of strand lay their line of march. It 
was hard travelling, for the sand, unless 
wet, is not firm, but yields under the foot, 
and gives forth at every step a creaking 
note, doubtless caused by the particles of 
salt that are commingled with the sand. 



176 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

The sounds coming from so many foot- 
steps made one continuous creaking, very 
much Hke the sound of a loaded wagon 
drawn over a snow-packed road. 

The surf boomed and pounded, rushed 
and seethed and swirled, so that thirty rods 
from the group the noise of their footsteps 
was swallowed up. The men, though, 
heard the creaking continually, and it ap- 
parently grew louder and more distinct. 
It seemed to them to be giving the alarm 
of their coming to the whole Beach. 

"I'm goin' to take to the wet sand," said 
a man in the middle of the group. " I've 
had enough of this everlastin' creak, creak, 
creak." 

The tide was half-way down, and as he 
struck for the wet sand, he was followed by 
the rest of the company. They found the 
sand firmer, and the walking easier. Now 
and then a wave would lap up and wet 
their feet. They were used to wet feet, all 
of them; but creaking sand at every foot- 



Widow Molly. 177 

step on a midnight march they could not 
endure. 

When the first streaks of daylight showed 
themselves in the east, Captain Ben put 
his followers in file close up under the surf 
hills. So soon as daylight grew strong 
enough to define faintly the reaches of the 
coast, he crept to the top of the row of 
hills, and reconnoitred the Beach. He 
could just make out dimly, a mile west- 
ward, the masts and hull of the stranded 
schooner. He backed down from the sand- 
hill and reported what he had seen. 

" About a mile to west'ard, an' nobody 
stirrin' as I can make out. See that your 
guns are all well primed an' dry. Keep in 
close to the hills till we get abreast the 
spot. And now, forward! " 

There were two or three places in the 
hills in that mile, where the ocean had 
broken through and poured its waters over 
low spots of beach into the Bay. Cau- 
tiously the men skulked by these open- 
ings. 



178 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

"I b'lieve in bein' wary," said a Blue 
Point bay-man. *' There's no calc'latin' 
what we may run upon any minute — mebbe 
the hull poss on 'em in some o' these ere 
hill hollers." 

The daylight was now fast flooding ocean 
and Beach and Bay. What they were to 
do must be done quickly. 

Captain Ben gathered his followers close 
in under the bank, while he climbed to the 
top of the sand ridge and peered over. 
He saw distinctly the masts of the 
schooner, but not the hull, as the sec- 
ond ridge of hills cut off his view. 
He slipped back a few yards, and directed 
the men to range themselves abreast and 
crawl over the hill into the next valley or, 
rather, depression between the surf hills 
and the middle beach range. 

When all were over and down, he gave 
word to crawl on hands and knees up the 
ridge before them, and to halt within 
twenty yards of the top, while he again 
peered over. 



Wido7zi Molly. 179 

The day was now fully open. The creep- 
ing line of men came towards the top of 
the ridge, and Captain Ben waved his hand 
backwards for them to stop. The line 
halted, and every man drew himself up on 
his knees to watch the Captain. 

He had crept not three lengths after 
waving his hand for the line to halt, when, 
as suddenly and unexpectedly as if some 
dead sailor had risen from his grave 
among those Beach hills, a man stepped 
over the crest of the hill. 

In an instant and with one impulse, the 
Captain, and those in the line behind him, 
levelled their muskets at the outlaw. 

He was startled, but his senses came 
quick as Captain Ben growled, " Not a 
breath from you, you devil, or out goes 
your brains. Drop, an' crawl to rear." 

The outlaw dropped upon all fours and 
crawled to the rear, the men all the while 
covering him with their muskets. 

The moment he reached the line, he was 



i8o Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

seized by seven or eight strong hands. 
Captain Ben was there as quick. 

" Gag him. — Not a whimper from you, 
either! " 

The outlaw yielded as he felt a bayonet 
prick his side and saw a musket lifted 
above his head ready to stave his skull. 

'' Bind his hands behind him," continued 
the Captain. " Tie his feet — tie his legs 
above his knees, and muffle him." 

Then they tore the outlaw's hat into 
shreds, and with rough hands stuffed these 
shreds into his mouth around the gag- 
stick. 

Meanwhile, Captain Ben crept to the top 
of the hill and peered over. No one else 
was stirring on board the schooner. 

The outlaw that was now lying at the 
bottom of the hollow, bound so that he 
could not move, gagged and so nearly 
choked that he could give no alarm, was 
doubtless the last watch, who at daylight, 
seeing that all was well, had taken it into 



Widoiv Molly. i8i 

his head to stroll over to the ocean side, 
and see what was doing there. 

" This devil out of the way and no one 
else stirring, there is every chance of sur- 
prising the outlaws before they turn out," 
thought Captain Ben. 

He, therefore, ordered the men to creep 
over the hill and down the slope as far as 
possible, separating all they could in doing 
so. Then, when he rose, the rest were to 
follow his example, rush toward the 
schooner, and board her if possible. 

Over they crept and down through the 
grass, sticking the coarse sedge-stumps 
into their hands and knees. The time that 
passed in getting over to the ridge and 
down to the meadow seemed to them ten- 
fold as long as it really was. They watched 
the schooner constantly, yet no one was 
seen stirring on board. 

When at last off the slope of the hill and 
down upon the level meadow, the Captain 
rose to his feet, and, crouching very low, 
ran toward the vessel. The others quickly 



1 82 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

followed his example, all keeping the 
sharpest eye on the schooner, and ready 
to fall flat upon the meadow at the least 
sign of anyone coming on deck. 

They were within ten rods of the 
schooner, when an outlaw, half dressed, 
stepped out of the cabin gangway. He 
had just stepped out of his berth, and sailor- 
like, had come on deck the first thing 
to look at the weather. 

The instant his head popped above the 
cabin entrance, every man upon the 
meadow fell flat and watched him. 

It was an exciting moment. Though 
they were lying as close to the ground as 
possible, there was no rank growth of new 
grass to conceal them, and had the outlaw 
cast his eyes upon the meadow where they 
lay, he would surely have detected their 
presence. 

But although a man is out of his berth, 
his senses are not at their brightest. He 
must yawn a little, and stretch himself and 
clear his throat. All this the outlaw did 



Widow Molly. 183 

his face turned from the Beach and look- 
ing out over the Bay. 

Captain Ben, seeing this, rose stealthily, 
and with one vigorous sweep of his arm, 
signalled the men to rush toward the 
schooner. There was not a second lost in 
obeying. The splash of a dozen men in 
the water, who made for the schooner's 
bow in order to board her forward, at- 
tracted suddenly the outlaw's attention, and 
whirling around, he took in at a glance the 
whole surprise. 

The schooner was harder aground aft, 
and lay obliquely, with her stern almost 
touching the meadow bank. To this point 
Captain Ben and the others of his company 
ran, and drew their guns on the outlaw, 

" Surrender or I'll pull," shouted Captain 
Ben. 

" Five minutes to consider," asked the 
outlaw, who afterwards proved to be the 
leader of the gang. 

"Not a second," replied the Captain. 
' Speak the word, or you're a dead man." 



1S4 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

The men who plunged for the bow of 
the schooner had now gained the deck, and 
were rushing for the outlaw, while those on 
shore kept their guns levelled on him. Two 
of the stoutest men seized and pinioned 
him with the main sheet. 

The outlaws below, aroused by the noise, 
rushed up the cabin gangway just as they 
had sprung from their berths, bareheaded, 
barefooted, with breeches and shirt on, but 
suspenders flapping. 

When they sprang from their berths, they 
caught up whatever weapons came first to 
hand — pistols, dirks, sheath-knives. In their 
excitement two attempted to come through 
the gangway at the same time, and one of 
Captain Ben's men, seeing his advantage, 
instantly clubbed his musket and struck. 
The blow hurled both the outlaws back 
upon those rushing up behind, and thus 
cleared for a second the gangway stairs. 
Down rushed the man with a bayonet on 
his gun, followed by others. A pistol-bul- 
let gouged a piece out of his left arm, but he 



Widow Molly. 185 

kept his man at bay. By this time all the 
rest of the townsmen were on board, and 
crowded, as many as possible, into the 
cabin. The fight grew fierce. The cabin 
became filled with smoke from the shots 
fired. But there was no chance to reload, 
and the butt of the musket was used with 
horrible execution. Blood flowed and 
bones were broken. The struggle, how- 
ever, lasted but ten minutes. In that short 
time most of the outlaws lay stunned upon 
the cabin floor; the others had been pressed 
into berths and corners, and pinioned. 
And so soon as those upon the floor showed 
any signs of reviving, they were bound 
strongly. A few irons were found on 
board, and these were used as far as they 
would go. The outlaws were put under 
guard, and given over to some colonial 
officials, but into just what custody is not 
now known. 

The schooner was searched from stem to 
stern that very morning, and booty of some 
value secured. Not a pound, though, 



1 86 Legends of Fh^e Island Beach. 

of Widow Molly's gold was brought to 
light. In the cabin, however, in a conspic- 
uos place, hung the gun with brass mount- 
ings. 

And that night the part of the company 
that went westward stopped at Widow 
Molly's, and Captain Ben handed her the 
gun. The men lingered an hour in the 
front room, and drank the hostess' health 
again and again. 

When they had gone and the house had 
become quiet, Widow Molly took her candle 
and the gun and went into the kitchen. 
She cleaned and polished it, working till 
her candle was low in the stick. Some- 
times a tear fell, but they were the tears 
that overflow from a bounding heart 

A few evenings after, the young squire 
came. They sat and talked into the quiet 
stretches of the evening. Then Widow 
Molly brought him the gun. As he took 
it he kissed her, but not one time only as 
at first. And when the squire carried the 



Widow Molly. 



187 



gun home, she who had guarded it to her 
utmost went with it, but no longer Widow 
Molly. 




THE MINERAL-ROD 



John was a hand in the paper-mill at 
Islip in the twenties. The old mill is still 
standing in the western part of the village, 
near the road. One might almost touch 
it with the whip when driving by. It 
represents something of the Islip of the 
twenties which was far different from the 
Islip of to-day — a quiet, steady-going vil- 
lage, with no incoming of summer resi- 
dents, and no flutter of gay summer life. 
A few sportsmen made their way thither 
in the season, but it was a hard day's 
stage ride from South Ferry and too far 
away to attract even one or two of the 
many who were accustomed to leave New 
York during the summer. It was a quiet, 
steady-going place, and John was a quiet, 
steady-going hand, working in the mill 



The Mineral- Rod. 189 

every day. He had worked there several 
years with apparently no thought of doing 
anything else. He liked the place. The 
merry rumble, the cool moist air always 
prevalent, the stream always rushing under- 
neath turning the wheels, and ever slipping 
on down the creek and spreading out into 
the broad bay. And the tons and tons of 
paper that were made and kept going off 
somewhere John took great pride in. 

But one morning John went to his work 
in the mill with his mind no little disturbed. 
Nothing had happened out of the ordinary. 
His folks were all well and had gone 
about their work that morning in the usual 
way, with no apprehension of the idea 
absorbing his thought. He alone was dis- 
turbed. It was plain to see at the mill 
that his mind was preoccupied. He talked 
little. He did not so much as whistle once 
in going up and down stairs about his 
work that day. In the night he had had 
a singular dream, and he thought it over 
and over all day. When he left the mill at 



1 90 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

sundown, he had determined that if he 
should dream the same thing again he 
would prove the dream. 

Several days passed and the impression 
on his mind had somehow lost its force. 

But just a week later to the night, he 
dreamed again very vividly that at the 
Point of Woods there was treasure buried 
between the west end of the woods and the 
hills which flank the ocean. 

The next day he narrated all the particu- 
lars of his dream to an intimate friend, 
Peter by name; and telling him further 
that as this was the second time he had 
dreamed the same thing he purposed to 
get a mineral-rod, go on the Beach, and 
search over that spot of ground. 

Pete's imagination became inflamed also, 
and he agreed to go with him. 

But where was a mineral-rod to be got, 
or who knew how the magical thing was 
to be made ? If one had a mineral-rod, it 
was an easy matter to hold it with both 
hands and walk over ground in which gold 



The Mineral- Rod. 191 

or silver was buried. When one came 
with it near a place where precious metal 
was hidden, tradition had always asserted 
that the rod would bend and twist in one's 
hands and point toward the place of con- 
cealment; and such was the mystic attrac- 
tion between any mass of gold or silver 
coin and the rod, that no matter how firmly 
held it would bend down straight when 
directly over any spot where money was 
buried. 

John knew further from common tradi- 
tion that this rod was always a crotch cut 
from a witchhazel bush. But just what 
additions or modifications were connected 
with it he had never heard. 

He sought out, therefore, the oldest 
men and talked with them about buried 
treasure and mineral-rods, and in this way 
came upon more minute information. He 
followed up every clew, and at last heard 
of an old crone living in the middle of the 
Island who knew how mineral-rods were 
made, and who in her younger days had 



192 Legends of Fire Islajid Beach. 

used one — proving its power, by holding 
one in her hands and traversing the garden 
to find some silver coins which had been 
concealed there as a test, detecting them 
at last hid in a cabbage-head. 

John went to see her, reaching her cot 
at dusk and coming home in the evening. 
To do this he walked sixteen miles. 

At first she was reticent. 

*'It ain't no use to talk of mineral-rods 
with no gold nor silver to look at nor to 
feel of." 

There was no other way. So John put all 
the coins he had into her hand, and then she 
revealed her secret to him. Not only this, 
but she encouraged him when he told her 
of his plans. She related what she had 
done in her younger days when she lived 
in other parts. And more, she exacted a 
promise from him of some share of what 
he would surely find on the Beach. 

"It had always been said," she remarked 
as he was leaving, ''and I've heerd it time 
an' time agin, thet Kidd buried money on 



The Mijieral-Rod. 193 

thet Beach as well as on Gard'ner's Islan'. 
Nobody hed found any as yet, because no- 
body bed s'arched in the right spot. It 
hed come down from gineration to ginera- 
tion thet he was along the South Beach 
many times, an' thet he come in the inlets 
an' got supplies of the Injins; an' where 
could he bury treasure thet would be safer 
than on thet Beach? an' if I was a younger 
woman, or even now at my age if I hed less 
rheumatiz, I'd go on to thet Beach an' live 
there, an' I'd s'arch it fur miles with a 
min'ral rod." 

In his lonely walk home he repeated the 
directions she had given him to fix them 
in his mind, for the old crone had been 
garrulous and had wandered from the 
particular subject again and again. 

" Find a large witchhazel growing in moist, 
springy ground — near a stream was best. 
Cut a branch shaped like the letter Y, with 
prongs rather larger round than a man's 
thumb, and leave the bark on. In the 
prong running down from the fork and 



194 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

near the end remove the bark and gouge 
out a hole large enough to hold a good- 
sized goosequill, which must be got from 
a pure white goose. Fill this quill with 
quicksilver and cover it tightly with kid. 
Then put this into the hole in the end of 
the witchhazel crotch, pack a little cotton 
around it, and replace the bark. 

"He must carry a lucky bone in his 
pocket the while, and carry it with him for 
days before using the mineral-rod, as well as 
while using it. All must be done secretly, 
and no other person should see any part of 
the process. The rod must be concealed, and 
it was best to wrap it in an old coat till 
the spot of search was reached. When 
going to dig for treasure he must take 
nothing that had been used — always a new 
spade or shovel." 

John repeated these directions over and 
over in his walk through the great woods 
which are gone now almost completely. 

The bay and the ocean to the south, the 
heavy forests north of the line of hamlets 



The Mineral-Rod. 195 

along the shores of the bay — such were the 
conditions at that time. To-day one can 
picture and reaUze those conditions to 
some degree, 

"Among the groves at Mastic." 

The heavy forest engendered one sense of 
mystery, the sea engendered another. 
It is, then, no matter of surprise that in 
those days superstition and imagination 
had their rude votaries, and that there 
were more of this class than we are willing 
in these years to admit. 

It was a month before the mineral-rod 
was completed, and then a fortnight more 
went by before all other arrangements and 
provisions for the expedition were made 
ready. 

At last John and his friend Pete, who 
believed as confidently as he in buried 
treasure and the magical power of the 
mineral-rod to reveal the spot, sailed out 
of Doxsee's creek and headed their craft 
for the Point of Woods. 

It was a long sail, as they had to beat 



196 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

all the way across. When they reached 
the beach, they drew their boat up close 
to shore and made everything as secure as 
could be. They had plenty of time, for 
the daylight still lingered. And as they 
could not begin their search till after it 
was fully dark, they concluded to go to the 
tract of beach, look it thoroughly over, and 
determine where they would begin the 
search, and what should be the plan of 
walking over it with the mineral-rod. 

This plan they discussed at great length. 

''It's my opinion," said Pete," that the 
only good way to do is to select some place 
as a centre, and then walk around this 
making your circle bigger all the time." 

But John opposed this strongly saying, 
''I don't believe the mineral rod'U work 
as well that way; and what is more, you're 
likely to miss going over a good deal of 
ground, for it's a pretty hard thing to keep 
the right curve V\^hen you're several rods 
out from the centre." 

" But can't you make the circles smaller 



The Mineral- Rod. 197 

and close together," replied Pete, " and then 
some of the ground '11 be searched over 
twice?" 

" No," answered John; *' there'stoo much 
hit-and-miss about that. The best way, and 
the only right way is to begin on the top of 
the ridge of them surf hills and walk length- 
wise of the Beach, just as near a bee-line 
as possible; and when you've gone over 
one length of the ground, then turn 
and walk back within two feet of the 
first line, and so on till you've gone 
over the hull ground to the edge of the 
woods." 

Each one held firmly to his own opinion, 
but John had the advantage in that he had 
proposed this quest and had made the 
greater part of the preparations for it. 

Darkness had now fully settled. The 
wind blew out of the east, clear, dry, and 
cool. The stars shone with the lustre of a 
cold sky. Large and small, each glistened 
distinctly in the great dome. The night 
was beautiful, yet neither of these men 



198 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

appreciated the beauty or the mystery 
that surrounded them. 

Unable to agree, they had returned to 
their boat. John took out the mineral- 
rod wrapped in an old coat, and Pete took 
the two new shovels and threw them over 
his shoulder. John led the way, and they 
walked over to the top of the hills. 

" Accordin' to my dream," spoke John, 
"this is far enough west to begin. Stick 
one shovel down here, and the other we 
'11 use at the east end in the same way so 
as to keep track of what we've been over. 
We'll have to change the shovel at each 
end every time till we get over to the edge 
of the woods." 

Pete pushed the shovel into the sand, 
and John undid the coat and took out 
the mineral-rod. He was excited as he 
grasped each branch, pushed out his arms, 
and held the rod in proper position. His 
hands trembled as he started, and the 
tighter he grasped the rod — one of the 
conditions necessary for him to observe — 



The Mineral-Rod. 199 

the more his hands shook. He walked 
carefully over the uneven surface of the 
ridge till he reached the eastern limit 
according to his dream. Pete drove the 
shovel into the sand at this end, and they 
began the search back. Slowly back and 
forth they walked these long bouts, work- 
ing laboriously down the slope of the hills. 
It was tiring work. John's attention was 
strained again and again. Time after time 
he would stop, retrace his steps and walk a 
second time over some spot, going very 
slowly indeed and clutching the mineral- 
rod so tightly that the tremor of his hands 
deceived and balked him. Often he would 
become so perplexed that he would put the 
rod into Pete's hands, send him back to 
the starting-point, and then walk behind 
him till the uncertain spot had been passed 
and Pete had said he could feel no bend- 
ing down or pointing of the rod. The 
more, however, Pete was called upon to use 
the rod, the more uncertain he himself 
grew. Sometimes they both fell to doubt- 



200 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 

ing, and then it took them more than an 
hour to traverse one length of beach and 
back. To add to their excitement, they 
were approaching the middle part of the 
Beach, the very place where they believed 
they would surely find an indication of 
buried gold. 

The night, however, had gone faster than 
they were aware. The day was breaking 
faintly in the east, and when searching up to 
the top of a small hillock, they suddenly 
noticed the dawn. 

The search they both knew must be 
conducted at night. 

What was it best to do ? 

"We've got to stop, make marks of some 
kind to show us where we left off, and 
come back again at dark to-night and go 
over the rest of the ground." 

So they wrapped the mineral-rod up in 
the coat, heaped up a little mound of sand 
where both shovels stood, took these, and 
made their way to the boat. 

They were hungry, but they did not 



The Mineral-Rod. 201 

delay to eat. It was best for them, they 
felt, to get away from that part of the 
Beach. 

Accordingly they got their boat under 
way, and as they sailed eastward along the 
Beach, tired and chilly, they ate their 
breakfast. After they had sailed four or 
five miles they headed out into the bay. 
When the sun was well up, they put 
about and steered directly for the Beach. 
On the flats they anchored, lay down in 
their boat, and went to sleep. 

Just before dusk that night they were 
back at the Point of Woods. As soon as 
the day had completely gone they stood 
up the shovels in the mounds they had 
made at daybreak that morning, undid 
again the mineral-rod and began anew the 
search. They worked carefully for three 
hours, becoming at times confused, as on 
the previous night, and frequently retrac- 
ing their steps and going over many places 
a second time. They had worked their 
way, however, nearly over to the outskirts 



202 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

of the wood. John had come to a small 
hillock, perhaps four feet high, and was 
walking up over it when suddenly he felt 
the end of the rod drawn strongly down. 
He could not mistake this. Some decided 
force had pulled the end of the mineral- 
rod down, and it pointed obliquely to the 
hillock. 

** There's no doubt this time," he said 
as he stepped back a few paces, feeling as 
he did so some decrease in the force ex- 
erted upon the end of the mineral-rod. 
" You get the shovel to the west and bring 
the old coat here. I'll get the shovel be- 
hind us. This, I tell you, is the very spot." 

Each of them was highly excited as he 
came back to the hillock. 

''Hold on," said John as he restrained 
Pete from striking his shovel into the sand. 
" Let's begin together, and remember that 
come whatever will, not one word must be 
spoken while we're digging — not a sound 
till we've got what there is here completely 
out of the hole." 



The Mineral-Rod. 203 

"Now I'm ready," said John after a 
second, and they began to dig vigorously. 

It proved warm work, and shortly each 
in silence took off his coat and laid it with 
the mineral-rod. Half an hour passed and 
there was a decided slackening in the rate 
of digging. Whether they were beginning 
to doubt or not, nothing could be said. 
At length Pete's shovel struck something. 
He drove it into the same spot for another 
shovelful. As it struck he heard a hollow 
thud. Then John struck it with his shovel 
and again came the same hollow sound. 

There was something here surely, each 
thought, yet neither of them spoke. They 
were unable to make out exactly what it 
was, other than wood of some sort, for 
their shovels cut into it as they struck it. 
But every time there came the hollow 
sound. 

John began to widen the hole they were 
digging, and Pete soon noticed this, and 
followed John's example. 

The wind now blew a strong breeze, for 



2 ©4 Leer ends of Fire Island Beach, 

it had gradually risen as the night had 
progressed. 

Threatening clouds were bunching up 
and drifting across the sky. All the signs 
indicated a coming southeasterly storm, 
and it would likely be severe while it 
lasted. 

Both men thought of this, for they were 
weatherwise. Still they might dig on two 
hours longer if necessary. 

After widening the hole, they dug 
toward the centre, where they had struck 
the wood, and then down by the mysterious 
dark object. The sky was becoming more 
obscured and they could not see so well, 
even though the pupils of their eyes were 
dilated to the utmost. They dug farther 
down beside it. John reached a place 
where he got his shovel underside and 
began to pry. Something gave way 
slightly. He dug again, and got his 
shovel farther under and pried harder. 
The dark object began to crack. Pete 
seized hold of it with both hands and 



The Mineral-Rod. 205 

exerted all his strength. It gave way and 
they rolled it out of the hole. Then they 
examined it with their hands, feeling it all 
over. It was the hollow stump of a tree. 
John ran his arm to the bottom of the hole 
several times, but took out nothing but 
sand. 

He stood a moment contemplating and 
then with his foot he pushed it angrily 
back into the hole. Quickly he turned, 
gathered up the coats and his shovel, and 
set off for the boat. Pete followed, and 
not a word was uttered. 

They got their boat under way, each 
maintaining silence. The wind was free. 
John let the sheet run, and they swept 
out into the broad bay. The waves ran 
high. Their boat, as if a thing of life and 
spirit, would poise on the top of a wave 
while its crest broke with a rushing sound, 
and then drop gradually behind into its 
trough. Then the next wave would come 
up astern and bear them up in the same 
manner. And so their little boat rode each 



2o6 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 

wave and swept onward. The rhythmic 
movement of the boat and waves had a 
quieting and solacing effect upon these 
disappointed argonauts. Half-way across, 
Pete spoke and said, '' John, that hillock 
was covered with brier-bushes, you remem- 
ber. That must have been a brier that 
pulled down the end of the rod." 

John made no reply to this, but ten min- 
utes later he broke his silence : 

" Pete," he said suddenly, " hand me that 
stone forward with the rope tied to it. Now 
give me that old coat. No, hold on! You 
come here and steer." 

He moved forward, then tied the stone 
tightly to the old coat. Standing up, he 
threw the bundle from him with all his 
might, saying as he did so, " There goes 
that cussed thing overboard. I wish to 
thunder I had the money I put into that 
darned old granny's hands six weeks ago." 

Having proved his dream, John returned 
to his work in the mill. He worked 



The Mineral-Rod. 207 

there contentedly several years longer. He 
liked the place. The merry rumble, the 
stream always rushing underneath, turning 
the wheels and slipping on down the 
creek and spreading out into the broad 
bay. And the tons and tons of paper that 
were made and kept gomg off somewhere 
John took greater pride in than ever. 



NOTES. 



Page 22. 

Watch Hill is a prominent hill on the Beach op 
posite Patchogue. 

Page 41. 

Quanch is a landing-place on the Beach opposite 
Otis's Point. 

Page 46. 

Between the years 1710 and 1720 as many as 
twenty whales were taken in a single season by the 
crews on the Beach. 

Page 47. 
Fiddleton is a mile and a half west of Quanch. 

Pickety Rough is a strip of beach east of Point o' 
Woods, so called because of the prickly growth of 
bushes there. 

Page 59. 

" The Gore in the Hills " was a name given to a 
tract of land near Yaphank, over which a dispute 
arose in the last century. This dispute was settled 
by arbitration in 1753. 



2IO Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

Page 6o. 

" Squasux " — the Indian name for the landing on 
Carman's River, at the end of the Brookhaven Neck 
road. 

The last owner of the house here alluded to was 
the late Joseph Carman. 

Page 62. 

" The Inlet " referred to began to close up in the 
early part of this century. Small coasting vessels 
sailed out of this inlet as late as 1816. The inlet 
kept filling' in, however, and the small channel was 
at last blocked by a brig which went ashore at the 
mouth of it. Soon after the channel filled up com 
pletely. This brig was loaded with grindstones, 
and on this account was popularly called the ' ' Grind- 
stone Brig." This spot of beach has been known 
ever since as "Old Inlet." It is opposite the ex- 
treme eastern end of Bellport. 

Pages 63 and 64. 
This incident actually occurred as here related. 

Page 65. 

Between the years 1780 and 1785 the persecution of 
Judge William Smith by certain townspeople was so 
great that he was compelled, in order to save his 
life, to give up a part of his estate to them. 

His barns were burned to the ground, with a I'-ss 
of thirty horses, and all his orchards were girdletl. 
The burning of his dwelling was intended, but for 
some cause this intention was not carried out. 

He had, moreover, a narrow escape from being 



Notes. 211 

shot through his bedroom window as he was going 
to bed. It so happened that his wife was all the 
time between him and the window, and the three 
men outside could not cover him with their muskets 
without covering her at the same time. 

Judge William Smith lived at the Manor of St. 
George (Smith's Point) where the late Egbert Tan- 
gier Smith resided nearly the whole of his life. 

Page 99. 

The landing, now a thing of the past, was on the 
shore now embraced in Wood Acres — the estate of 
Mr. George T. Lyman at Bellport, 

Page 124. 
Clam Hollow is situated midway between Bell- 
port and Brookhaven. Within the past forty years 
the heavy woods have been cut down, the road 
made somewhat straighter, the hollow raised several 
feet, and the western hill cut down. 

Brewster's Brook, previously called Dayton's 
Brook, but known for the past sixty years as Os- 
born's Brook, is in the eastern part of Bellport at 
the foot of the hill. 

Page 128. 
The Mills was the old name for South Haven 
because of the grist and saw mills situated there at 
the foot of the pond. 

Page 137. 

" Near Southampton," etc., about a mile west of 
" St. Andrews by the Sea." 



212 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 

Page 139. 

After the breaking up of the ship, it was the cus- 
tom of certain farmers in the fall, when the neap 
tides would permit, to plow along the shore, and 
the waves cutting over the upturned furrows would 
wash out these Spanish coins. 

Page 143. 
The present residence alluded to was known for 
a long time as the Corse Place. 

Champlin's stood where the South Side Club 

House now stands. 

Page 149. 

" Inlet near the Manor of St. George." See note 
to page 62. 

Page 171. 

" Penataquit " — an Indian word — the early post- 
office name of Bay Shore. 

Page 173. 
Long Cove is about three-quarters of a mile east 
of Watch Hill. 




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